Knight's Quest
by dsl261967
Summary: Post NWN2 OC, featuring Nevalle/KC, non-MoTB. This is my first attempt at an original, novel length story. Reviews welcome. The different story lines start to come together now. ON HIATUS
1. Prologue: How It Begins

Prologue: How It Begins

_He dreamed..._

"I see you have returned safe and victorious from the battles at the bridges Knight-Captain," Sir Nevalle greeted her at the main door to Crossroad Keep.

"You had doubts about that Nevalle?" Ashara Thenner asked, one eyebrow arching over an emerald green eye that gleamed with amusement.

"None whatsoever my lady," the Captain of the Neverwinter Nine replied. He looked long and hard at Ashara as she removed her helm and pushed her auburn hair back from her face. Ashara Thenner, Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep, Shard-Bearer, member of the Neverwinter Nine, and the love of his life. She was an amazing woman who had won his heart, captured his soul and made him happier than he felt anyone could ever possibly be. She stood before him, looking him in the eye, and despite the positive tone of her words he could see the worry in her eyes.

Ashara motioned him to follow her and headed through the keep to her quarters, giving him the details as she went. "There were so many undead that I hit one of them with every swing of my sword. The worst part was at the last bridge," she said grimly. "Our old friend Garius showed up, bragging about how he had come back to reclaim his keep. I pointedly reminded him that it was my Keep now and that apparently he hadn't learned his lesson the first time we battled."

Nevalle felt his lips twitch in amusement at the affronted tone of her voice. "How did he respond to that Captain?" he asked as he followed her into her quarters and closed the door behind them.

"About how you'd expect," Ashara answered as she placed her helm on the table next to the armor stand before removing her gauntlets and laying them beside it. Then she removed her sword belt and carefully hung her greatsword on the wall behind the stand. As she began to unbuckle her plate mail she heard Nevalle move to help her. "He bragged about how he was so much more powerful now and then proceeded to demonstrate that power by making his summoned undead bigger and stronger than they had been," she continued, a little shiver going down her back at the memory.

Nevalle lifted the breast plate from her and placed it on the stand while she removed the greaves covering her shins. "Bigger and stronger?" he asked, unable to keep a note of apprehension out of his voice. "I've never heard of such a thing before. Do you have any idea how he managed it?" If their enemy had that kind of power then it boded ill for the troops under their command.

"He claimed it was just one of the many 'benefits' he had gained when he became the right hand man for the King of Shadows," Ashara answered sarcastically as she began to unbuckle the armor plates covering her thighs. "To be honest it unnerved me a little that he could do that," she looked at Nevalle's face, saw the skepticism there and ammended her last statement. "Okay, so it unnerved me a lot," she smiled at him.

"Only a fool would not be rattled by such a display of power and you were never a fool Ashara," he admonished gently as he took the leg plates and lay them on the floor beside the armor stand. He took the padded undercoat from her as she removed it and placed it on the stand while she bent to pull off her boots.

Ashara sighed and stretched as she finally was free of the trappings of battle. Even though full plate provided the best protection for those who chose to fight hand to hand, it was very heavy and after the battles today had been almost more than she could bear. Moving to the bed, she flopped down onto it on her back and stared up at the ceiling as she continued to give Nevalle the details she knew he wanted.

"Fortunately, my foster father showed his usual uncanny ability and timing at showing up right when I need him the most," she felt a smile curve her lips at that.

"Daeghan had come back to the keep to give us an update, but he disappeared shortly thereafter without telling anybody where he was going," Nevalle told her as he sat on the bed at her feet. Taking one foot in his hands he began a gentle massage that he knew would help her to relax. "So he showed up at just the right moment?"

Ashara couldn't keep from moaning a little at the delicious tingle Nevalle's touch sent up her leg. Even though he had just started she could already feel the tension of the day beginning to fade. "Yes, he appeared on the top of a hill behind Garius and, with the help of two his men, began lobbing blast globes into the midst of the undead. Then as my companions and I engaged them, he and his men sent hail after hail of arrows into their midst. I honestly think that if it weren't for his help then we might have been overwhelmed out there. I have to admit, after what I saw today, that I am a little less confident about facing his entire army when they eventually make their way to the keep." Another little moan escaped her as Nevalle's hands moved to her legs, his touch not only soothing her aching muscles, but stirring the flames of desire in her.

"I have always had the utmost confidence in your ability to face and defeat any opponent you meet in battle Ashara," Nevalle said firmly. "Let Garius and his army come here and try to take the keep. You've trained the men well and seen to it that they had the best armor and weapons available. With you leading us, we will be victorius, regardless of how many tricks Garius has up his sleeve."

"You always seem to know exactly what to say to cheer me up," Ashara said softly, a slight smile on her face.

Nevalle gave her a small smile before leaning over to give her a deep, passion filled kiss. Pulling back, he placed one finger over her lips and stared deeply into her green eyes. "I would never say something to you that I didn't mean whole heartedly for I love and respect you too much to do otherwise. You will prevail, never doubt that."

Ashara smiled at his declaration and reaching up, pulled his head back down to kiss him again, feeling his hands loosening the clip in her hair so he could spread it out around her and run his fingers through it. Looking into his warm brown eyes she murmured, "I love you too Nevalle, more than I thought possible. I never expected it to happen and I cherish each moment we have together for each one may be our last."

"Shh, don't say or think such things," Nevalle soothed as his hands moved to undo the laces on her shirt. "No one can say what the future holds, so believe in your abilities and believe in our love and leave the future to itself." He slid the shirt off her shoulders and gently caressed her breasts, his fingers teasing the nipples to hard peaks. He smiled as she closed her eyes and arched into his touch, moaning her desire for more. Starting at her neck, he placed kisses and nibbles along it, working his way down to capture a rosy peak in his mouth. Her hands came up to hold his head to her as he lavished attention on first one and then the other sensitive peak. Slowly, he began to kiss and lick his way down her body, dipping his tongue into her navel, feeling her squirm under him and moan his name. Taking the laces of her trousers in his teeth, he pulled them loose and then slipped a hand inside to stroke her gently, causing her to press up against his hand. Slowly he slid the trousers down her legs, kissing each inch of exposed skin as he went. Then, starting at her toes, he licked and nibbled at each one before slowly moving back up her long legs, pausing to kiss the sensitive backs of her knees, making her cry out. Then he gently parted her legs and lightly touched her little bud with his tongue, causing her to gasp and shudder. He continued to lick and suckle at her while slipping two fingers inside her slick channel, enjoying how she writhed and moaned under him. He kept doing this until he felt her body clench and then she screamed his name as he pushed her over the edge. After giving her a couple of soothing laps he lifted his head to see her staring at him, love and desire making her eyes glow brightly. Getting up, he quickly removed his own clothes before joining her in the bed.

Ashara eagerly embraced him as he moved to cover her body with his own. Lovingly, tenderly they kissed and caressed each other for the longest time, trying to draw out each moment of pleasure, to make it last as long as possible. Pushing him onto his back, she started to lavish his body with her lips, hands, and tongue. She slowly moved down to bite and suckle at his own nipples, enjoying how he squirmed and moaned under her touch. She ran her hands over his well-muscled arms and toned abs, delighting in the feel of him beneath her. She continued kissing her way down until she reached that part of him that showed clearly how much he needed her. As she took him in her mouth, she heard him gasp her name. The longing and desire in his voice stirred the flames inside her own body, his pleasure increasing her own tenfold. She didn't let up until he buried his hands in her hair and begged her to stop. Moving up his body so she could kiss him, she slowly lowered herself until he was buried deep inside her, the feel of him there causing her eyes to close and a moan of pure delight to burst forth from her mouth. As she moved up and down on him, she felt his hands move to her hips, guiding her movements. Spreading her legs wide, she took him as deep into her as was possible, crying out at the intense pleasure sweeping through her body. Faster and faster they moved together, the sweat running down their bodies. Soon she felt her muscles start to clench and tried to hold back, to savor the moment, but her body wouldn't listen. As he gave one final, hard thrust she came, screaming his name in her release, vaguely aware of his own cries as the heat of his release flooded her body. Exhausted, she collapsed on top of him, feeling his arms encircle her to hold her close.

Nevalle slowly came to his senses and opened his eyes to see Ashara looking at him, tears in her eyes. "What is wrong?" he asked, concerned that he had somehow hurt her.

"Nothing," Ashara gave him a tremulous smile. "I am just overwhelmed by how much joy you give me. It's not just physical either. It's the knowledge that you could have had anyone you wanted and yet you chose me. You have wealth, lands, and titles while I am just a poor girl from a back water swamp village, despite the honors Lord Nasher has bestowed on me. Yet I see in your eyes how much you love me, and I feel it in the way you touch my body. I hear it in your voice when you whisper my name as we lie together in bed. The knowledge that I have your love is the only thing that keeps me going these days, that makes we want to survive the coming storm. I have to, if only so that I might be with you for the rest of my life."

"I will tell you truly that titles, wealth, and lands mean nothing if you don't have love," Nevalle said quietly. "I would gladly trade them all to be with you. I knew that my life was lacking something, but until I met you I had no idea what it was. Then you came to Neverwinter and stole my breath away with your beauty, strength and courage. When we started sparring together, I knew that I had found my match and no one else would ever come close. I never dared to dream that you would be mine someday, for there were so many others who wanted you and made sure that I knew it. Yet, you chose me and for that I thank you. I will never let you go and I would fight all the devils of the Abyss to be at your side." As he finished he gently kissed her, trying to show how much she meant to him.

Rolling to the side, Ashara snuggled her back up to him, feeling his body curl around hers protectively. The fighting and the lovemaking had worn her out and she soon fell asleep, dreams of a home and children making her lips curve into a smile.

Nevalle remained awake for some time watching her sleep, not wanting to take his eyes off of her. He feared the coming days for the battles would be fierce. He knew that Aldanon was close to an answer on how to reach the Vale of Meredelain. Once he had one, she would be gone from him, off to fulfill the destiny that fate had deemed for her. He feared to lose her when the time came, but he kept his fears to himself. As he had told her, no one could predict the future. He would just have to hold onto his faith in and love for her and pray for her safe return. Closing his eyes, he finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"I still can't believe he betrayed me! I trusted him!" Ashara yelled furiously at nothing and no one in particular. She looked wildly around her quarters, wanting to just smash everything to pieces.

Nevalle stood silently watching her vent her anger and pain. Everyone had spoken against keeping the ranger Bishop around. They had told her he was not to be trusted, but Ashara had refused to condemn him for past actions. She had been determined to show him trust, to give him a chance to make a better life for himself. He had repaid that trust with betrayal, sabotaging the main gate of the keep and leaving it vulnerable to Garius' army. He had mocked them for their foolishness in thinking they could win and then had run off to join the supposed winning side.

"How could I have been such a fool about him?" Ashara yelled at Nevalle as she turned to face him. "Everyone, including you, told me that he would do something like this. Why didn't I listen to you and send him packing when I had the chance? Becuase I trusted him, hundreds of loyal men are now dead, with my true friends almost among their number. Gods, how could I be so stupid?" she finished with a moan and buried her face in her hands, trying to hold back the tears that threatened.

Nevalle hurried forward and took her in his arms. "It is not stupid to want to believe that people can change Ashara. In fact, your willingness to give people the benefit of the doubt is just one of the reasons I love you so much. In this world, far too many people are judged on preconceived ideas or notions. You have always judged people by what they do, not what they are, or what they might have done. I have to be honest with you Ashara. For a while there I had thought that you were right and the rest of us were wrong about Bishop. He had seemed to change, and whatever his reasons for betraying you are, I would bet that they are not simple ones. Unfortunately, I doubt that we will ever see him again, so we will never know the truth of why he did it."

The feel of Nevalle's arms around her and his soothing voice finally enabled Ashara to let go of the tight control she had on her emotions. Clinging to him, she cried and cried, letting the tears ease the pain of her heart. "I'm so sorry that I didn't listen to you, so sorry," she sobbed against his chest.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Nevalle soothed as he gently stroked her back. "You were able to rally the men and meet the threat from Garius and you led us all to victory. Yes, men died, but who's to say that they would have lived if the keep had not been left vulnerable? Don't blame yourself my love, for neither I nor anyone else here blames you for what happened." He stopped talking and merely stood there, holding her and making soothing noises.

Ashara felt herself relaxing under his touch and finally was able to stop crying. Pulling back a little she stared into his eyes, seeing nothing but love and sympathy in them. "I was so upset about what happened that I ignored Aldanon when he tried to talk to me earlier. Do you know what he wanted?"

Nevalle hesitated to answer, not wanting to let her go just yet. He slowly kissed her, gently teasing her lips apart to slip his tongue inside to duel with hers. Then breaking off the kiss, he held her to him as tightly as he could. "He has figured out how to establish a portal to take you into the Vale of Meredelain," he said softly.

Ashara stiffened, Nevalle's words telling her that the time had come. "How long will it take him to do it?" she asked, unable to keep the trepidation from her voice.

"He said it would take a couple of hours and that he couldn't guarantee how long it would stay open," Nevalle answered. "That means that you would have to go through it as soon as it is established. He said that when you are ready to go, to let him know and he would begin. I told him that everyone who was going would need time to eat and rest and to replenish their supplies. Once you go through, you will be cut off from the rest of the world and will only have what you take with you."

"How long do we have?" she whispered, tightening her arms around him and pressing herself to him.

"Long enough my love," Nevalle murmured as he brought her mouth to his and pushed her back towards the bed.

* * *

"I don't know whether to be glad or not that you figured out how to do this Aldanon," Ashara told the sage, her gaze fixed on the portal standing before them.

"Yes, well it was quite the job that, if I do say so myself," Aldanon said cheerily. "I mean, this is magic of the kind not seen in these parts in decades, since the old Illefarn Empire fell as a matter of fact."

"While Aldanon may be optimistic and enthusiastic about this, I am not," Sand told Ashara, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "After all, we won't really know if it worked until we reach the other side. With the way things have gone so far, I would not be surprised if we ended up far away in Calimsham or some other distant place. However, this is the only road open to us and I suppose that you are going to charge blithely through, as you usually do, leaving us, your hapless companions, to follow in your wake as best we may. Am I right?"

Ashara felt her lips twitch at Sand's words. His razor sharp tongue and rapier wit had not been dulled in the least during their adventures. Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn't help but find amusement in the fact that some things never change. Hopefully, the wizard would come out of the upcoming battle alive and well. The world would be a much more dull place without him in it.

"You may stay here wizard if you wish, but I have every intention of following Ashara through," Ammon Jerro growled out, his gravelly voice lending weight to his words.

"I never said I wouldn't go Jerro," Sand snapped at the warlock, his brows creasing in a frown. "I was merely trying to keep everyone from getting too excited about this little excursion we are planning to undergo."

"Trust me Sand, excitement is not what I'm feeling right now," Ashara said firmly. "The King of Shadows lies beyond that portal, and I only hope we are ready to face him. From the way Aldanon explained it this is most likely a one way ticket. That means that once we step through we are on our own with no one to rely on but ourselves."

Ashara looked around at her companions, seeing that each of them were feeling the same as her, but were just as determined to see this through to the end, whatever end that might be. Still, she felt compelled to caution them one last time. "I know I've said this before but I'll say it again. You are my friends, not my soldiers. I will neither ask nor order you to follow me through the portal. This is the last opportunity for you to decide to stay here. I may be leading all of you to certain death, or I may be leading you to a dark victory. I want you to know that you will still be my friends no matter what you decide. So I want everyone to take a few moments now to think and reconsider their reasons for going through with this."

Nevalle silently watched her speaking to her companions and could see that she was scared of what she had to do but she hid it well. Of course, the first to step forward and tell her he would follow her was Casavir. As the paladin moved back to stand against the wall again, Nevalle took a deep breath and moved to stand in front of him. He knew that Casavir harbored strong feelings for Ashara, so what he was going to ask of him would not be easy for him to accept or agree to.

Casavir looked steadily at the Captain of the Nine as he moved to stand in front of him. He could see in the man's eyes a question needing to be asked, but Nevalle seemed unable to ask it. Guessing at what it might be, he spoke first. "You wish me to promise to look after Ashara, do you not?"

Nevalle blinked once in surprise and then gathered his thoughts. "I know that you have very strong feelings for Ashara and that is why you will not let her face this alone. However, you should know that I would gladly follow her if she permitted me to do so. Unfortunately, as she has pointed out, my place is here and this is her battle to fight. While she may appear to be strong and confident, you should know that she is a little shaky right now. Bishop's betrayal has it her harder than she will admit and I fear that you might meet him on the other side. I know you can't promise to keep her safe, or bring her back alive, but you can promise this. Be her strength and her rock if she should need it."

"Sir Nevalle, I know that it is you she loves," Casavir said quietly. "While I may wish things were different, they are not and I know that I can never be more than her friend. However, it is because I love her that I follow her, and it is because I love her that I will stand beside her to the end. I will do everything in my power to protect her and bring her back to you. I know that you would do the same if our positions were reversed, for that is what men of honor do."

Nevalle felt embarassment heat his face at the paladin's words. He had looked at him as a rival for Ashara's affections and never really got to know the type of man he was. He should have known that Casavir could be counted upon, even if all others failed. "You humble me and honor me with your words Casavir," he replied. "I don't know if I could be as generous as you when it comes to Ashara. I hope that I will have the opportunity to sit down with you after this is over and talk with you again." He nodded briefly and then turned back to where Ashara was.

Casavir returned the nod Nevalle gave him and watched as the knight walked over to Ashara. In the world they lived in, there were few men such as Nevalle left. Men with the ability to swallow their pride and do what was best for the ones they loved. He himself could have been resentful to be passed over by Ashara, but that would have tarnished his love for her and been disrespectful of one who was more deserving than most of such respect. While it pained him to see her in another man's arms, he would rather die than see her unhappy. There had been so little love and happiness in her life that he couldn't deny her what she had found. He made a silent vow to Tyr that he would give everything, including his life, to see her returned to Nevalle. She deserved no less from him.

Nevalle and Ashara moved away from the others and found a private corner to speak their farewells. All of the companions had firmly declared their intentions to follow her through the portal, so there was no more postponing the inevitable. They stared at each other, their eyes expressing the words they could not. Not the doubts, not the fears, not the dreams they both had.

"I swore to myself that I would be strong, but I don't know if I am," Ashara whispered, tears choking her voice.

"You are strong enough to face this Ashara, I have no doubts about that and neither should you," Nevalle answered and gently cupped her face in his hands. "Let my love be your shield and your strength and let my faith in you give you courage if you need it. I will be here waiting for you when you return." Pressing his lips to hers he kissed her fiercely, pouring all his love and hope into that one kiss, trying to give her everything he had. Finally he broke the kiss and gently ran his fingers over her face as he stared deeply into her eyes. "I would go with you if you or Lord Nasher permitted it. Sand has estimated that it should only take a couple of days for you to find and confront the King of Shadows. He says that the magic of the portal may well end if and when you defeat the enemy," his voice stumbled a little over the words. Taking a deep breath he continued. "That means that you will have to return to the keep on foot, a journey of a couple of weeks or so. However, he says he will find a way to send a message ahead so we won't worry. So know this," he said firmly. "If I do not hear from you and you do not return in that time, I will come find you. Even if I have to battle all the devils in the hells to do so, I will find you. I will not let you go without a fight, and nothing and no one will stop me."

"Nevalle, you have sworn oaths to Lord Nasher and Neverwinter," Ashara gasped in shock. "What you are suggesting would be a violation of those oaths."

"I told you before that nothing else matters in life if one does not have love," Nevalle stated. "I would sacrifice everything for our love, for without you I am nothing."

"As I would not see you throw away everything you have worked so hard for, I promise that I will return to you as soon as possible, if..." Ashara bit back her last words, not willing to voice aloud the possiblity that she could die. Kissing him one last time, she stepped back and placed her helm on her head. Turning she walked quickly back towards her companions and stood before the portal. Looking at each one in turn, she saw they were ready, and taking a deep breath she stepped through the portal, Casavir right behind her, and the others following one at a time.

Nevalle watched her and her companions go, biting his tongue to keep from calling her back. He knew the words she had thought but didn't voice and he was glad of that. Giving voice to such doubts sometimes leant them power over a person and that was the last thing either of them needed at this point. He reminded himself to have faith and left it at that.

"The Knight-Captain is strong and will prevail Sir Nevalle," Lt. Kana spoke up. "I have never served with any such as her before and as far as I am concerned there is no one more capable of accomplishing this task than her. I know you will miss her, as will I, but she will be back with us soon enough."

"I hope and pray you are right lieutenant," Nevalle answered quietly. As the portal gradually faded he turned away and headed towards her quarters, wanting only to be around her things and think back on the wonderful times they had spent together.


	2. Chapter 1: Dreams and Decisions

Chapter 1: Dreams and Decisions

Nevalle jerked upright in bed, heart pounding and breathing labored, the memories of his last few days with Ashara still swirling in his mind. He had had the same dream every night for the past week. It was always the same, with always the same result. He could see her face and hear her voice as clearly as if she was in the room with him. In fact, the dream was so real that sometimes he awoke to find that his body had actually responded, causing him to have to send the bed linens to be laundered. Fortunately, the servants didn't ask any questions for he didn't know how he would answer them. Then again, they were merely servants and he didn't have to explain anything to them if he didn't want to. As that last thought circled his head, he imagined what Ashara would have said if she had heard it. She went out of her way to make everyone feel important, regardless of their station in life. She said that by doing so, you made people feel wanted and they would work harder and complain less. It was a viewpoint that most in his circle didn't hold, and it was one that he had only just begun to understand. However, she wasn't here to chastise him for it, even though he would gladly submit to one of her famous tongue lashings if only he could touch her again.

He shivered as the chill air in the room flowed over his sweaty skin. The fires were always lit during the cold months, but even during the hottest days of summer, stone keeps such as this one were on the chilly side. Rubbing a hand over his face he looked towards the window to see what time it was. Judging from the light grey color of the sky, he surmised that it was about an hour before sunup. Figuring that he probably would not be able to go back to sleep, he decided to get up and go find something to do that might take his mind off Ashara for a while at least. Climbing out of their bed, he walked over to the dresser and poured cold water from the pitcher into the wash basin. After splashing the water on his face a couple of times, he stood and stared at his reflection in the mirror. There was a couple of days of stubble on his face and dark circles under his eyes, not exactly his usual impeccable appearance. Both were a testament to how bad the past week had been for him. Looking around the room, his eyes touched on the familiar items, each one a reminder of her. He probably would sleep better if he chose a room other than the Knight-Captain's quarters, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He was afraid that if he did then she would be lost to him. A silly superstition some would say, but he couldn't help but feel that it kept her alive and well.

Sighing, he grabbed his razor and soap and began to shave, his thoughts drifting back over the happenings of the last week. The first couple of days after the companions had gone through the portal had been tense ones. He had walked the battlements almost continuously, barely taking time to eat or sleep, his gaze fixed off to the south in the direction of the Vale. Even though he couldn't see anything, he still watched, hoping to see some sign that Ashara was victorious in her battles. It wasn't until late afternoon on the third day that he had seen anything. He had just finished making another tour of the battlements when one of the soldiers called out for everyone to look. Hurrying forward and looking where the man was pointing, he saw what appeared to be a darkness spreading out from the Mere towards all the land. Before anyone could be sure of what they were seeing, the darkness had disappeared, like smoke on the wind, leaving behind nothing but a bright, sunshiny sky. He knew in his heart that it meant that Ashara had won, but it would still have to be confirmed. Hurrying down to the main floor of the keep, he ordered Kana to send out scouts to search the land and report back on what they found.

Soon there were messengers flocking to the keep bringing reports from all corners of the realm. The undead that had been swarming all over the place had just collapsed where they were, becoming mere corpses once again. In every city, town and village people were celebrating, and nowhere could be seen any trace of the darkness that had once seemed to enshroud them all. While all the news given to him was good, Nevalle still couldn't find a reason to smile. There was no message of any kind from Sand and the wizard had promised he would send something, if he was able to. That meant either that Sand was dead or that he had no means available to him. Nevalle hoped the latter was the case and eagerly awaited the return of the scouts he had sent to the Vale. His father had always said that no news was good news and he chose to believe in that.

Having finished shaving, he quickly dressed and headed through the keep to the kitchens. He paused briefly outside of Lord Nasher's room, but all was quiet so he continued on. It was too early for anyone else to be up which suited him just fine. The effects of the dream were still with him and he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone yet. Walking into the kitchen, he asked the sleepy cooks to bring him coffee, eggs, bacon and toast and then went into the dining hall. Sitting down to the left of the head chair, he attempted to go over those things that required his attention today, such as meeting with the two messengers that came late last night: one from Waterdeep and another from Port Last. However, Ashara's fate weighed heavily on his mind and kept distracting him. Even though he had told the scouts to ride with all due haste, it would still take them at least a couple of more days to return with news from Meredelain. He would have preferred to have gone there himself, but couldn't really justify such an action. Someone had to keep an eye on things here, and Ashara would want it to be him. He cautioned himself to be patient, reminded himself that it would take them a couple of weeks to travel back to the keep. There was no reason for concern yet, despite the lack of a message.

Just as he had finished eating, he heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Nasher's manservent heading towards the kitchen. "I am assuming that Lord Nasher is awake, Gervais?" he asked, stopping the man in his tracks.

"Yes sir," Gervais nodded to the knight. "He has ordered me to bring him a big breakfast, a good sign that he is almost fully recovered. He mentioned that he would meet with you later and discuss his departure. I believe he intends to return to Neverwinter today. With all reports indicating that the threat is over, he wishes to start getting the people returned to their homes." After hesitating a moment he dared to ask the question that was foremost in his mind. "Has there been any word on the Knight-Captain or her companions, sir?"

Nevalle couldn't keep the worry from his face or voice as he answered. "Not yet, though there hasn't been enough time for the scouts to reach the Vale and return."

"I have prayed to Tymora every day since they left for their safe return," Gervais said quietly. "I will continue to do so until they come home."

Nevalle nodded his thanks and let the man go order Nasher's breakfast. He decided to go and see if Kana was up yet and headed back to the main hall of the keep. He swore that the woman somehow lived there because he seldom saw her anywhere else. Sure enough, as soon as he entered, Lt. Kana walked forward to greet him.

"Good morning, Sir Nevalle," Kana nodded. "I see you are up early again?" The question carried a note of sympathy and the look on her face said she knew the reason, but would not speak it aloud unless he wanted to talk about it.

"Have any more messengers come to the keep overnight lieutenant?" Nevalle asked, his voice a little colder than he intended. He saw Kana reflexively step back a couple of paces and straigten to attention.

"No sir," she answered, her voice holding a tinge of hurt. "I believe that the two who did arrive late are still sleeping."

Nevalle briefly thought about apologizing for his tone but then dismissed the idea. One never apologized to subordinates, it wasn't proper and could lead to problems down the road. "If any do arrive today, I wish to be informed of it without delay," he orderd and then turned and headed towards the main door of the keep.

Kana sighed as she watched him walk away. She worried what Sir Nevalle would do if too much more time passed without word of the Knight-Captain's fate. Each day that passed, the man's face seemed to become a little more gaunt, and his eyes grew more and more haunted. She wondered what it was like to love someone that deeply and then shuddered a little. She wasn't sure she would want to experience what he was going through. Shaking her head, she turned to the large table behind her and began to sort through the mundane paperwork for the keep that seemed to be never-ending.

Nevalle stopped when he reached the topmost battlement and stared south, watching and waiting for any sign. The men knew to leave him be when he was there and it gave him time to think. He knew he would have to maintain a better grip on his emotions or risk doing or saying something he would one day regret. Besides, everyone had had so little to celebrate of late that it wasn't fair of him to visit his dark mood on them. Ashara would come back to him, had to come back to him. Until she had entered his life, he had had no idea of what he truly wanted in a woman. All the women of the court, from young to old, had tried to lure him into their net. It had become tedious to be around women who always seemed to be sizing up your purse when they looked at you. Gods forbid that you should be thinking about the numerous duties or tasks you had to do when you were with them. If they figured out that they didn't have your full attention, they either sulked or lectured you about paying more attention to their needs, wants, and dreams.

Ashara had been so different that at first he hadn't been sure how to deal with her. She was so far removed from any of the women he had known that he had no basis for comparison. She spoke her mind freely and he had found her honesty, while sometimes brutully blunt, to be refreshing. If she was angry at you she told you why and never resorted to sulking or tears. Make her angry enough and you might just find her fist in your face, especially if she had a few ales under her belt, as he had witnessed on a couple of occasions. His lips quirked in a smile at that thought. She preferred ale to wine, trousers to skirts, and a sword to a needle. She was not the kind of woman his mother or father would have deemed suitable for a noble, and not just for those reasons. She was poor, a commoner, and as such not the right type of girl. However, if they knew how happy she made him, then they would probably overlook those things. His father had long since given up trying to tell him how to live his life, and his mother now only reminded him once in a while that she would like to hold a grandchild in her arms before she got too old to appreciate it.

No, the biggest opposition to his relationship with Ashara would not come from his family, but from the other nobles, and perhaps even Lord Nasher himself. Although, given recent events it might not be as bad as it normally would. Still, it would not be easy to make his dreams a reality now that the war was over. All her accomplishments, all the accolades bestowed on her, didn't change the fact that she was not of noble blood. Even though he himself didn't care about such things, most others did. Even amongst the Nine, it had only been Darmon and Callum who didn't see anything wrong in his relationship with the Knight-Captain. Callum went so far as to say that she was a jewel amongst women, and that Nevalle would be a fool to let her get away. Of course that was after she had drunk the dwarf under the table during the party celebrating her induction into the Nine. Callum would understand what he was going through if he was here, but he had died during the war, and his loss was still painful to think about. Ashara had been almost as upset as he had been when they failed to get to Callum in time, for she had like and admired the tough, cynical dwarf. They had both drunk themselves under the table that ill fated night.

Suddenly a thought struck him and it wiped the smile from his face. Ashara and he had never discussed anything like marriage because their future was so uncertain. She had declared her love for him, but what if she didn't want to marry him? She had more than once said that she didn't care for the nobility because they were so pompous and arrogant. Yet, to be with him would require that she learn to deal with the court and maybe she wouldn't want to. He supposed that was just one of the things they would have to discuss when she returned. He would make it work, somehow, he promised himself.

Hearing footsteps approach from behind him, he turned to see Nasher's page coming towards him and rightly surmised that his lord wished to see him. Dismissing the boy after the message had been delivered, he headed back down to the main doors. As he walked into the keep, he began to go over the possible directions the conversation with Lord Nasher could go. He prepared himself to argue against accompanying Lord Nasher back to Neverwinter, if that should come up. He needed to be here at the keep and hopefully he would not have to give away the true reason for it. He reached Lord Nasher's room and knocked on the door, then entered when asked.

"My Lord Nasher," Nevalle bowed and then waited silently, trying to keep his face neutral despite the nervousness running through him.

"Ah Nevalle, you always arrive so promptly when I summon you," Lord Nasher smiled slightly. "If only more of those around me were to do the same then maybe things would get done quicker, hmmm?"

"If you are refering to the merchants or ambassadors that come to court, then possibly," Nevalle said humorously. "However, it's been my experience that those people often think much of themselves and hold to their own secret timetables. I don't believe that will ever change, my lord."

"Hmph, you're probably right," Lord Nasher grumbled. "I called you here to inform you that I intend to return to Neverwinter today. All the reports seem to indicate that the land is now safe and the people will be eager to return to their homes. All available hands will be needed to insure an orderly reoccupation of the city." He saw Nevalle about to voice a protest and waived him to silence. "I am not including you amongst their number Nevalle," he told his knight and saw him relax. Despite what many might think, he was no fool and he knew that Nevalle had a very personal reason for wanting to stay at the keep. Even though he was sure Nevalle would bow to the dictates of duty and accompany him if ordered, Nasher had no wish to make life harder on the man. Nevalle had given him years of faithful service and was owed some leeway.

"If my presence is required Lord Nasher, I shall of course accompany you," Nevalle bowed slightly. "However, as capable an officer as Lt. Kana is, I don't believe she is competent enough yet to handle matters here at the keep on her own." His voice sounded sincere to his ears and his reasoning was sound, so hopefully Lord Nasher would not pry deeper.

"I agree with you Nevalle," Lord Nasher had to bite back a smile at the look of relief that briefly crossed Nevalle's face. "Crossroad Keep is now the only major military structure still standing, and as such is going to play a key role in Neverwinter's future. Knight-Captain Thenner did a magnificent job with it and I don't want to see it go to waste. You are the only one of my knights that I fully trust who also has the ability and experience to manage the place, therefore you will remain here until Captain Thenner returns."

"So you intend to make Ashara Thenner the outright owner of Crossroad Keep my lord?" Nevalle queried. Seeing the puzzled look on his lord's face he clarified his question. "I know that giving Ashara the keep was done out of necessity more than anything else."

"Yes, it was necessary and that is what I told the council. I would like to make her position permanent, if she is willing. However, you know as well as I do that the decision doesn't rest solely on my shoulders," Lord Nasher warned. "Like I said, this keep is now an important place and there are many that will have their own ideas about what to do with it. There are many bigots amongst the nobles who will not take to the idea of a commoner being placed in such a position of authority, regardless of how deserving of the honor she is."

"My lord, the ones you speak of are power hungry and greedy," Nevalle said, a hint of anger coloring his voice. "They would care more about the money they could make from the place than the people who live here." He realized that his tone of voice bordered on the disrespectful and flushed slightly.

"Relax Nevalle, you are preaching to the choir," Lord Nasher told him. "I know this and that is why I will have to come up with very convincing arguments on behalf of Captain Thenner. However, that bridge can't be crossed until she returns. The only orders I have for you is to make sure that I am informed of her return as soon as possible. You know, as well as I do, that the best way to get around the nobles on the council is to hit them when they are distracted by other matters. The less time they have to debate, the more likely they are to agree. As things are likely to be chaotic in the city in the coming weeks, this will be the best time to broach the subject."

"Of course my lord," Nevalle bowed. "Is there anything else you require of me my lord?"

"No Nevalle, you may go," Nasher dismissed the knight and waited until the door closed behind the man before turning to his servant. "Well Gervais, I see that you were right as usual. Even though he tries to hide it, I can see how deeply in love Nevalle is, and how worried he is about Ashara Thenner."

"Does that bother you my lord?" Gervais asked. "I mean he is a noble and Captain Thenner is a commoner."

Lord Nasher sighed as he realized what Gervais was getting at. "What you really mean to ask is whether or not I would sanction a union between them, isn't that right?"

"Knowing the nobles of the court, I know that there will be much opposition to their relationship," Gervais answered frankly. "It has gone unremarked to this point because of the threat hanging over all our heads. Now with the threat removed, they will have time to turn their attention to other matters. They will become aware of the relationship and will no doubt raise a hue and cry about it. However, as most of them will want to stay in your good graces, your support would go a long way towards silencing the dissenters amongst them."

"Perhaps Gervais, but all of this is academic right now," Lord Nasher responded. "It is troubling that there has been no sign or news of the Knight-Captain or any of her companions yet. Even though the King of Shadows has been defeated, it does not necessarily mean that Ashara Thenner survived the battle. Until we know for certain of her fate, it is best to let the matter be."

"I hope for your sake and Nevalle's that she did survive," Gervais said softly. "I have seen a love like theirs rarely, but I know that the loss of such love can drive people to the edge of reason and make them behave irrationally. If she is dead, then you will most likely lose Nevalle as well my lord."

Lord Nasher stared hard at Gervais and knew not to take the old man's words lightly. Gervais had been the manservant to the former lord of Neverwinter and he had seen time and time again over the years how Gervais was able to read people and situations more clearly than most. The man was uncanny at it and Nasher never failed to heed the words of the man. They had proven almost prophetic in times past and that thought caused a frown to cross his face. He had already lost two other valuable members of the Nine: Melia to that warlock months ago and Callum to the Shadow Reavers more recently. As the Captain of the Nine, Nevalle was invaluable, but as his right hand man, he was irreplaceable. He decided that it couldn't hurt to add his own prayers for Captain Thenner's safe return and he would see to it that Reverand Olef added his own prayers as well. The gods may not always listen to individuals, but if enough people prayed for the same thing they might listen then.

"Well the day is not getting any younger so we best get moving Geravais," Nasher said aloud. Picking up his crown, he placed it on his head as Gervais pinned the royal cloak on his shoulders. Then, opening the door, he walked down the hall, through the main chamber and then out of the keep. Heading down to the courtyard he saw Nevalle standing there with the men who would be accompanying him back to Neverwinter.

"I wish you a safe journey Lord Nasher," Nevalle said formally.

"Thank you Nevalle," Lord Nasher smiled at him as he mounted his horse. "I am sure it will be, for the greatest dangers have been removed and I think I am more than a match for any stray bandit we might come across."

"Without a doubt my lord," Nevalle smiled and stepped back from the party. He watched until he could no longer see even the dust from the horses hooves before turning and heading to the inn. It was nearing lunch time and he wanted to get something to eat as well as catch up with Sal on how the non-military residents of the keep were faring. Hopefully, word of Ashara would arrive soon, for he felt that the waiting and not knowing was going to drive him insane.

* * *

As the sun was setting on the third day following Lord Nasher's departure, sentries on the wall spied a lone rider approaching the keep. As soon as the rider was close enough to the guards on the main gate, the condition of the horse was made apparent and it spurred them to send a runner post hast to fetch Sir Nevalle. They quickly opened the gates for the weary horse and its rider, knowing that whatever news was being brought was quite urgent.

The tired scout barely managed a nod at the guards as he trotted his mount to the well in the middle of the courtyard. Dismounting, he found he had to hold on to the saddle for a few moments so he could get his legs under him. Looking at his horse standing with its head down, sides heaving, and limbs trembling, he gave thanks to the gods that the Knight-Captain had insisted that only the very best mounts were purchased for the keep. A lesser animal would most likely have dropped dead by now from the pace that he had set. However, the news he had brought was quite urgent and it had been necessary. Just as he managed to regain control of his limbs, he heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Sir Nevalle coming towards him, followed closely by Lt. Kana. Straightening up, he saluted them and waited to give his report.

Nevalle saw that the scout was one of the men he had sent south and then noticed the condition of the man and his horse. Whatever the message was, it had to be extremely urgent for the scout to have ridden the horse half to death. Suddenly, his heart clenched with fear that the news was bad, and he hesitated for a few moments. At a whispered question from Kana he shook his head and got down to business.

"Take the horse to the stable and see that it is looked after well and properly," he sharply ordered two of the stable boys. Turning to the soldiers in the courtyard he motioned to the scout. "Escort him to the Phoenix Tail Inn," he ordered them and then turned and headed in that direction himself, Lt. Kana falling into step beside him.

"Excuse me sir, but why are you bringing him there?" Lt. Kana quietly asked. Protocol required that the man be debriefed as soon as possible and that was always handled inside the throne room of the keep.

"I have my reasons," Nevalle answered shortly and saw her back off slightly. Ashara may have allowed more leeway with her subordinates, but he was not so lax. A superior officer was under no obligation to explain himself. He issued orders and expected them to be followed. Kana had better get used to that or she would have problems serving under someone else's command. After all, there was the possibility that Ashara may not return to manage the keep. That would mean another commander would have to be found, and whoever it was would not be lenient with what basically amounted to insubordination. Why are you thinking like that? he suddenly asked himself. You haven't gotten the scout's report yet so stop counting your chickens, he admonished himself.

Entering the inn, Nevalle selected a table near the fireplace and asked Sal to bring two ales to him. As he took his seat, he saw the scout enter and motioned the man to the chair opposite him at the table. When Sal brought the ales to the table, he told the scout to drink and gather his thoughts. As he sipped at his own ale, Nevalle examined his reasons for doing things this way, and acknowledged that he was trying to brace himself for potentially bad news. Finally, after the ale was half gone, he asked the scout for his report.

"Sir Nevalle, as you are aware, I am one of three scouts dispatched to the south to determine the fate of those who entered the Vale of Merdelain," the man began. "We rode with all due haste, but also kept a sharp eye out for the Knight-Captain and her companions along the way. We kept expecting to see some sign of them, but all was quiet in the area. We finally managed to make our way through the mere to the spot where we had been told the ruins should be."

"What do you mean by should be?" Nevalle interrupted, his tone sharp with worry.

"My lord, we could find no trace that the ruins had ever been there," the scout said quietly. "We searched the area thoroughly, but all we could find was a caved in spot in the place we had been told to look. Not knowing what to make of it, we decided to examine the spot more closely. After a couple of hours, we finally came to a consensus that we did indeed have the right area, but it appeared as if the earth above it had collapsed in on itself. My lord, we believe that whatever happened during that final battle was enough to cause the land to cave in and bury all that was beneath it."

Nevalle felt the blood leave his face as he listened to the words and comprehended what the man was saying. After a long moment of silence, and swallowing hard a couple of times, he managed to voice another question. "Did you discover anything else that might indicate what happened to the Knight-Captain?"

The scout had been expecting this question and knew that Sir Nevalle was not going to like the answer. "I am sorry to say my lord that we found no evidence that anyone had managed to escape. There were no holes or gaps of any kind that even a mouse could fit through, let alone a full grown person. Sadly, it appears that the area has become a mass grave for the Knight-Captain and her companions."

The scout's words hit Nevalle like a slap in the face and he felt anger flare up inside him. "Are you a sooth-sayer that you can speak such with confidence?" he asked with a snarl and saw the man pale and flinch back. "What evidence do you have to indicate this?"

"My..my..my..l.l.lord," the scout stammered. "No one could survive such an event, no matter how much we might want to believe otherwise."

"Until I see her body with my own eyes, then I will not accept her death," Nevalle said harshly. "I will not write Ashara off without a backward glance, even if you have."

Lt. Kana saw the scout pale even more, if that was possible, and leaned forward towards Nevalle. "Sir, the scout has ridden long and hard to bring us this news because he understood how important it was to you," she cautioned in a whisper. "Do not repay his loyalty with harsh words. He is not deserving of such treatment."

Nevalle glared at Kana, wanting to tell her off, but knowing that she was right. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths in an attempt to regain his composure. Finally, he looked over at the scout and saw that the man was practically cringing. "You have ridden hard and are no doubt as exhausted as your horse," he told the man, his tone less harsh, but still retaining a hint of anger. "Go get some rest," he dismissed the man and watched as he walked wearily out of the inn.

"Sir, I know how much the Knight-Captain means to you, she means a great deal to me too," Lt. Kana said in a low voice. "However, you must be realistic about things. I am sure that the scouts made every effort to determine if they escaped. They did not and are most likely dead," her voice broke a little as she finished.

"Lieutenant, I did not ask for your opinion," Nevalle said angrily, his use of her title causing her to snap back in her seat. "You have duties to attend to so you had better get to them and keep your opinions to yourself."

Kana stood up and saluted him, "Yes sir." She stiffly walked out of the inn, deciding to go check on the scout and see if she could get any more information out of him. Sir Nevalle seemed to think he was the only one who cared about the Knight-Captain, but she was loved and admired by many. The news the scout brought would quickly spread throughout the keep, and many there would mourn the loss of the Captain and her companions. While she didn't fully understand how the portal the old sage had set up worked, she did know that it relied on power that was linked to the King of Shadows. The portal had gone dead at the same time that the darkness disappeared from the land. Aldanon had tried to reestablish it but had been unsuccessful, confirming that the King of Shadows demise had indeed disrupted it. Without the portal, and with the ruins buried, there was no way anyone could have made it out. Sir Nevalle was holding on to false hope and the sooner he realized it, the sooner he could move on with his life.

Nevalle sat for a long time staring down into his mug of ale, his heart refusing to accept what his brain was telling him was true. The scout believed Ashara was dead and so did Kana. He knew that as soon as the news spread that others would believe the same thing. However, he would not believe it, refused to believe it. She was smart and strong and she would have found a way to escape. Getting up from the table, he headed out of the inn and to the stables. He would go for a ride through the countryside to clear his head. Randomly picking a mount, he threw a bridle and saddle on it and then rode it out of the stables and through the courtyard to the main gate. The guards saw him coming and opened the gates quickly so that he didn't have to pause at all before riding through. He turned the horse's head towards the fields and urged it into a canter.

As he rode, he pondered how to go about proving she was still alive. With the portals collapsed and the ruins buried, there weren't too many options available to him. Yet, there had to be a way to do it, if only he could think clearly. After a couple of hours, he turned the horse back towards the keep. It was as he neared Crossroad Keep that it came to him what he had to do. He would have to escavate the ruins and see if there were any bodies there. If he did that and found nothing, then it would prove that Ashara was still alive and then the search could begin. However, would anyone else believe as he did? Maybe, maybe not, but he had to try to convince them.

Entering the courtyard, he dismounted and handed the reins to a stable boy before hurrying up the path and through the keep doors. Once inside he made a beeline for the throne room where he knew Kana would be. As he entered, he saw the lieutenant stiffen to attention, the look on her face as neutral as she could make it. He felt a slight twinge of guilt run through him because of how he had treated her, but he would not apologize.

"Lt. Kana, I am going to be riding to Neverwinter and I intend to head out as soon as possible," he told her as he approached. "See to having enough supplies prepared for the journey," he ordered and turned towards the living quarters.

"Sir, might I ask why you are leaving now?" Lt. Kana said as respectfully as she could, hoping that he wouldn't bite her head off.

Stopping to look back, he met her eyes as he spoke. "I intend to ask Lord Nasher for the men and equipment needed to do an excavation of the ruins."

"Respectfully sir, what you are planning to undertake will be not only time consuming but expensive as well," Kana said quietly. "It has been hard enough getting money out of the council to fund the City Watch. It will be next to impossible to convince them to go along with your plan."

"Whether the council will provide funds or not doesn't concern me," Nevalle said shortly. "Although seeing as how Ashara saved us all from certain doom then it is the least they could do. However, all I really need is Lord Nasher's permission for the undertaking and the council can go to the abyss if they don't like it. I have more money than I know what to do with and will pay for everything myself if need be. I will not accept that she is dead until I see her body and this is the only option open to me."

Kana nodded her thanks and understanding. "I will go get those provisions ready for you sir," she said and hurried off to the kitchens.

Nevalle continued through the keep and entered the Knight-Captain's quarters. He quickly packed his travel bag and then paused to look around the room. "I am coming Ashara. I promised you I would come find you and that is what I will do. You are not dead, you can't be dead," he whispered, his eyes closed as if in prayer. As he stood there he felt a light touch across his face, like a faint brush of wind. As he was inside the keep where the wind could not possibly reach, he took it as a sign from the gods that he was doing the right thing. She was alive, and he would find her.

Heading back to the throne room he saw Kana coming back from the kitchens with a satchel of food which she handed to him without a word. "I will ride as fast as possible, but it will still take a few days to reach Neverwinter," he told her.

"Just don't ride so hard that you endanger yourself or your horse sir," Kana said quietly.

"As there is no way to tell how long the escavation will take, I cannot say for certain how long I will be gone," Nevalle continued, ignoring her last statement. "I will see about sending Sir Darmon here to oversee the keep in my absence."

Kana stiffened at that last statement and looked angrily at him. "Sir, I am quite capable of overseeing things myself during your absence," she protested.

"Whether you are or not is not the issue," Nevalle said frostily. "You are merely a lieutenant and Crossroad Keep is too important of a holding. There would be outrage on the part of the council if I left only you in charge." He saw that she still looked like she wanted to contest his decision. "Might I remind you lieutenant that the way Ashara dealt with you is not the normal way things are done? Your attitude borders on insubordination and you should be thankful that I am more open minded than some. Superior officers expect their orders to be followed without question, do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," Kana said stiffly, her face flushing in embarassment at having to be reminded of this. Even if the Knight-Captain had survived the final battle, she still might not have wanted to resume her role at the keep. That meant that someone else would take over, and unfortunately Nevalle was right in that they would most likely not be as lax or easy going with those under their command.

Seeing that his point had been made, Nevalle wasted no more time and hurried out of the keep to the stables. He saw that word had gone ahead of him and the stable master already had a horse waiting for him. The mount he had chosen was none other than Champion, Ashara's own destrier. Walking up to the horse he looked it in the eye and spoke softly to it so no one else would hear. "I need you to give me everything you have fella for Ashara needs me." The horse snorted and nodded his head almost as if he really did understand the words. Smiling slightly, he mounted the horse and rode away, barely acknowledging the well wishes of the men as he went.

Once on the main road he pushed Champion into a hard gallop. By alternating between a hard gallop and a steady walk, he could cover ground at a quick pace without tiring the horse. He would of course have to make brief stops to rest the horse and get some sleep, but he still would make good time. He only hoped that it would not take too much time to convince Lord Nasher to agree to his plan. Ashara needed him and he would not fail her.


	3. Chapter 2: Memory Lane

Chapter 2: Memory Lane

Nevalle sat in his tent, idly picking at his dinner, thinking about the project he had undertaken. It had been easier than he expected to convince Lord Nasher to give him leave to pursue the excavation of the ruins. Nasher had even gone to the council to request funds on his behalf, but had met with no success. One of the scouts from the Vale had ridden directly to Neverwinter and given his report to them. They had bluntly said that they would not disburse any of their already limited funds for what amounted to no more than a wild goose chase. Not even the argument that many would want proof that the Knight-Captain and her companions were truly dead swayed them from their position. Nevalle had snorted in contempt and then gone to find Master Veedle to see about equipment and men. Veedle had been willing to help, but could only provide a modest amount of equipment and a handful of men for the project. So Nevalle had left the city and headed south towards Meredelain, knowing that the limited resources he had scrounged would make the task harder to complete in the three weeks Lord Nasher had given him. However, Tymora must have been smiling upon him, for halfway there he had been met by a group of dwarven engineers with all kinds of equipment suitable for excavating. They were all members of the Ironfist clan and told him they had been sent by Khulmar to help. Nevalle didn't know how they had found out about his plans and didn't really care. All that was important was that he now had ample equipment and men. When they heard about the Neverwinter council's decision, they openly ridiculed the whole lot, and Nevalle had taken secret delight in it. It seemed as if his time with Ashara had changed him more than he had thought.

So here they were, sitting in the middle of the gods forsaken swamp, working as quickly as was possible to uncover the ruins. The place was hot and humid and it smelled like rotting vegetables. He figured that those who chose to live around here got used to it, but how they did was beyond him. However, the answers he sought were here and he could endure the place for Ashara's sake. One of the first answers they had found was the fact that the ruins everyone had mentioned were only bits and pieces of structures. The consensus was that the rest of the ruins had been below the surface of the earth to begin with. Master Khelbar, the dwarven leader, had stated quite confidently that the amount of earth on top might not have been enough to collapse everything below it. His reasoning was based on the quality of the masonry they had already found: the place had been built to withstand the test of time, not surprising since it was dwarven craftsmanship of the highest level. He did caution that there was no way to know what kind of forces had been involved in the demise of the King of Shadows. If those unknown forces had been strong enough, then it was possible that the structure below the surface could have been collapsed. He had said they would not know for sure until they had cleared the earth away and gotten a good look at what was underneath.

That had been two days ago. Nevalle tried not to let his impatience get the better of him, but he kept wishing they could work faster. However, he had been told that the land around them was extremely unstable, and that if they weren't cautious, they could do more harm than good. Sighing, he took a couple more bites of his food, more because he needed to eat than a desire to eat. The heat and humidity of the swamp made everyone uncomfortable and certainly didn't encourage one's appetite. But that wasn't the only reason he had no interest in food. The dream that had haunted him while at the keep still kept him from getting a good night's sleep. Now he was beginning to think that he was losing his mind because he kept hearing whispers every time he went to the excavation site. He had once even stopped the workers because he could have sworn he heard Ashara cry out to him from under the ground. When several minutes had passed in silence, he had motioned the men to get back to work, ignoring the strange looks they had given him. They all probably thought he was mad as a gnome and maybe he was. When his tent flap opened, he looked up to see his young squire Trevor standing there, eyes on the ground. Nevalle had lost his temper with the boy the day before, for no reason other than the fact that the kid had laughed too loudly at a joke from one of the dwarves. Now seeing how nervous the boy was in his presence, Nevalle felt a twinge of guilt run through him. The strain was getting to him, for no matter how hard he tried, he seemed unable to keep a tight rein on his emotions now.

"Excuse me milord," Trevor said quietly, "but there is someone here to see you. I told him you didn't wish to be disturbed tonight but the elf insisted that it was important."

Nevalle's attention was caught by the word 'elf' for there were no elves amongst the crew he had with him. "Did the elf give you a name Trevor?" he asked as patiently as he could, determined not to snap at the kid again for no reason.

"He said his name was Daeghun and that he is the Knight-Captain's father," Trevor answered, his tone indicating doubt as to the claim.

"Daeghun!" Nevalle exclaimed, jumping to his feet in surprise. Ashara's foster father had not been seen at the keep since the night they had destroyed the bridges, and no word of the wood elf ranger's whereabouts had been reported. Many had speculated that he had gone back to the Mere and it seems they had been right. "Show him in Trevor," he told the page and then began to pace as he waited, pondering why Daeghan had come here.

Daeghun nodded at the boy as he was shown inside the tent, and then stood silently watching the pacing man before him. When Nevalle turned to face him, he felt a shock run through him although he allowed nothing to show on his face. Nevalle looked as if he hadn't slept in days and his usual impeccable appearance was missing, replaced by an unshaven, unkempt, haggard looking man with a haunted look in his eyes. Adding to the effect was the fact that Nevalle had lost a good deal of weight and now appeared gaunt, his clothes hanging off his body a little. How long they stood staring at each other he didn't know, but he finally broke the silence.

"You are not looking very well these days Nevalle," Daeghun commented drily.

Nevalle had been staring at the wood elf, more in shock at the man's appearance than anything else. Daeghun looked like he hadn't slept any better than himself and the elf's eyes had the same haunted look in them. He knew that Ashara's absence weighed as heavily on Daeghun as it did on him. "Have you looked in a mirror recently?" he asked sarcastically. "You look almost as bad as I do."

"Is that what is known as human sarcasm?" Daeghun asked in mild puzzlement and was surprised when Nevalle started laughing. "You find the question amusing?" he asked in a frosty tone.

Nevalle was laughing so hard his stomach was beginning to hurt and he didn't answer right away. Finally he managed to gasp out "Ashara told me about this, about how..you get...confused..." his voice trailed off as he started laughing again. He didn't notice the almost hysterical note to his laughter, but Daeghun did.

"Ashara is the reason I have come here Nevalle," he said firmly, hoping to snap the man out of his humor. It seemed clear to him that Nevalle was balanced on the razor's edge of reason right now. One wrong move and the man could end up falling down into madness. Daeghun had seen it happen many times in his life, and it even could have happened to him if it had not been for Ashara. Having to take care of the child kept him from dwelling too much on the loss of his wife and Ashara's mother Esmerelle. If they were to help Ashara now, then he needed to keep Nevalle from falling over that edge. "I do not believe that she is dead and I have been searching the land for any sign of her. When I heard about your project I knew that my place was here."

Nevalle stopped laughing finally and stared intently at the elf, a faint ray of hope shining through the darkness of his thoughts. "You believe as I do then? That Ashara is alive and needs our help?" he asked. He had begun to wonder if it was wishful thinking on his part, but Ashara had told him about some of Daeghun's talents, and if the elf believed she was alive then she must be.

"I would know if my daughter was dead Nevalle," Daeghun answered firmly. "I cannot explain how I know, but she is alive and in trouble. Sit down and finish eating, you will need to keep up your strength for what is to come," he sternly ordered.

Feeling a flush heat his cheeks at being talked to like a child, Nevalle never the less sat down and began to eat again, finding that he now had an appetite. "Are you hungry?" he asked the elf. "You look like you haven't eaten much in recent days."

"I have not eaten yet today," Daeghun answered as he sat at the table across from the knight. "If there is enough and it is not too much trouble I will join you."

Nevalle called to Trevor and told him to bring Daeghun a plate. The two men said nothing to each other, each lost in their own thoughts and not quite sure what to say. They had never spoken at any length together while at the keep, most of their conversations having been about things that needed doing before the final battle. Daeghun had spent so much time alone that opening up to others now was nearly impossible. Nevalle did not know enough about Daeghun to know what subjects the man would want to talk about, though even if he did, Daeghun did not strike him as the type for idle conversation. So they said nothing to each, concentrating on finishing dinner. When the plates had been cleared, Nevalle went and grabbed a bottle of wine and poured two cups, placing one before Daeghun.

Daeghun said nothing as Nevalle handed him the goblet of wine, merely took a sip from it, and then watched as Nevalle quickly finished his and poured another one. He suspected that this was a nightly occurance on the knight's part and that was not a good sign. It seemed that Nevalle hoped to find escape in drunken stupor, although the haunted look in the knight's eyes suggested that Nevalle was not very successful at it. In his experience, such actions were more harmful than not, and usually landed the person in trouble.

"I never had the opportunity to talk with Ashara while at the keep," Daeghun finally said, causing Nevalle to look intently at him. "I never had the chance to ask about the events that led to her becoming a knight and a member of the Nine. Perhaps you could provide some details?" he finished. He hoped to distract Nevalle by getting him to talk about Ashara, perhaps even to help the man find some peace in the memories.

"I suppose I could," Nevalle sat back in his chair. "Of course, I wasn't directly involved in her life until months after she came to Neverwinter, so the only things I know about that time are what I read in various reports." He then looked shrewdly at the elf sitting across from him. "I will tell you what I know if you return the favor," he saw Daeghun stiffen a little but pressed on. "Ashara never really wanted to talk about her life in West Harbor. I would like you to tell me about what she was like growing up."

Daeghun eyed the man before him closely. He wondered if telling Nevalle about her life would deepen the pain of her absence or ease it somewhat. Finally deciding that the benefits it could bring would outweigh the pain, he nodded his agreement.

Nevalle bit back a smile and then refilled his goblet and sat back in his chair. "In order for you to really understand what impact Ashara had on the city and those around her, I will have to give you an idea of what things were like at the time. Everyone knows about the plague and the war with Luskan and about how the city of Neverwinter was nearly completely destroyed. The plague had already devestated the ranks of the City Watch, and the ensuing war further decimated their numbers. Finding and recruiting men for the City Watch was difficult, but training and equiping them was just as hard. The city coffers had been seriously depleted by the war, and what limited funds were available were being channeled into rebuilding homes for those who survived. Stores and restaurants also had to be rebuilt along with the harbor so that trade could be reestablished and boost the economy. So it was a couple of years before any serious thought was given to boosting the ranks of the City Watch. In that time, numerous gangs and criminal elements had managed to set up shop in the city. Therefore, by the time the City Watch was rebuilt, these unsavory people had managed to gain a very strong foothold inside the walls of Neverwinter."

"I would imagine that such a thing would cause potential security risks to the city," Daeghun interjected. "It is usually amongst the criminal element that enemy spies hide. Even though Luskan signed a treaty, it would be foolish to think that they would just tuck tail and run. Luskans are devious and dishonorable, they would certainly take advantage of the situation if they could."

"Well that was the concern Lord Nasher had," Nevalle nodded. "So he did everything he could to support requests from the Watch for more men and pay raises for those already in service. However, there just wasn't enough money to go around. Finally, Lord Nasher ordered me to deploy the Nine in any way that would help Captain Brelaina." He rubbed his eyes and sighed before continuing. "To be honest, the problem seemed to be even bigger than what the Nine alone could deal with. It is very hard to keep control of a city when those who are supposed to protect it turn a blind eye for the sake of a few coin. The criminals in Neverwinter knew that the best way to get what they wanted was to give members of the watch something the city council couldn't. Against such methods as bribery and extortion, even the Nine were hard pressed to make a difference."

"Then Ashara came to Neverwinter and things changed?" Daeghun asked quietly.

"Yes," Nevalle nodded. "You see, her only interest was to get into Blacklake and speak with that old sage Aldanon. The watch had locked it up due to the murder of a noble there. The only ones being allowed in were trusted members of the watch and so Ashara joined the watch for that purpose. Apparently she must have been in a hurry for she handled each task set before her with alacrity. She accomplished in a couple of months what the Watch and the Nine had failed to do in a year. She took down the largest criminal organization in the city thus freeing the Watch from their grasp." He shook his head, still amazed even now at how easy she had made it seem. "I remember reading reports about her accomplishments and found myself fascinated by her. It was at that point that I first became interested in her and where she had come from. When I learned of her background I was further impressed by her."

"You were surprised that a young woman from a backwoods village could do what trained and experienced men could not?" Daeghun queried, a hint of amusement in his voice. Seeing the look of chagrin cross Nevalle's face he shook his head. "A piece of advice Nevalle," he continued. "Never underestimate what a woman is capable of when she wants something badly enough."

Nevalle laughed at that, "I assure you, I am well aware of what they can do." He saw that his goblet was empty and refilled it before continuing. "As I was saying, her accomplishments spurred me into keeping tabs on her activities. It wasn't just the jobs she handled for the city that I was interested in though. I made an effort to learn about everything she did. The more I learned, the more intrigued I became and so when I finally had the opportunity to meet her, I could barely contain my enthusiasm. She certainly didn't appear as I expected her to."

"What do you mean?" Daeghun asked. He found himself intrigued to hear how others saw his daughter.

"Well amongst the numerous reports I had were reports about her..uhm.. recreational acitvities," Nevalle answered. "It seemed she was quite fond of spending time drinking and gambling at the Sunken Flagon with her companions and the various other patrons that frequented the place. There were also reports of her temper and a few brawls she was involved in that spilled over into the streets. To put it bluntly, she had built up a reputation such that even the street toughs were afraid to mess with her. All in all, everything indicated that her temperament was more suited to breaking the law, rather than upholding it. So I was curious to meet her to see if I could determine the cause of the apparent discrepency. I expected to see a woman built like a brick wall with a face to match. Boy was I suprised, although pleasantly so."

Daeghun sighed, "She was much the same as a child. She had always had a temper and was always picking fights. When she grew old enough, I began training her to use a sword. I suspected that the fighting was a result of her being bored and having nothing to focus all her excess energy on. She has her mother's hair, eyes and intelligence, but her size, strength and temper must come from her father's side." He saw the question beginning to form on Nevalle's lips and waived him off. "Finish your story and then we will discuss her childhood."

"When Luskan accused her of murder, Lord Nasher sent me to inform her of the situation," Nevalle continued. "When I entered the Flagon, your half brother Duncan who owns the place came hurrying over, obviously nervous that I would suddenly appear in his establishment. Since members of the nobility or the Nine rarely set foot in the docks, he rightly assumed that there was some kind of trouble afoot. I asked him where I could find Ashara Thenner and he pointed towards a table next to the fire. All I could see from my postition by the door was a young, auburn-haired woman with her feet on the table and an ale in her hand, laughing at a joke told by the dwarf sitting across from her. Duncan hurried over to her to get her attention and the whole room fell silent as everyone became aware of my presence. When she looked right at me, the first thing I noticed was the piercing green eyes, glittering with fire and intelligence. When I made my announcement, I saw surprise cross her face before she stood up to come over to where I was standing. The next thing I noticed was her long legs and the way she moved with the grace and power of a panther. Everything about her bespoke confidence in herself and so I wasn't surprised when she looked me straight in the eyes, unimpressed by my rank or title. The fact that she could look me directly in the eyes was unsettling for I was not used to women being nearly as tall as I was."

"As I said, she was big for a child and she didn't stop growing until her mid-teens," Daeghun murmured. "I have seen many men react to her height. Most are not very comfortable with it and not all react well."

"I was uncomfortable at first, although not just because of her height," Nevalle nodded. "It was the fact that when she looked at me it seemed like she was trying to peer into my thoughts and determine what manner of man I was. It was almost as if she was challenging me, although what the challenge was I couldn't say. When I could get past all that, I saw the worry she tried to hide despite her outspoken disdain for Luskan's accusation."

"I often saw her behave that way towards some of the boys in the village, especially once she began training with the militia," Deaghun told him. "It seemed she felt the need to assert herself, to prove that she was every bit as good as the next person. I often wondered if it stemmed from the fact that no one knew who her father was. It is not easy growing up a bastard child, regardless of where you live."

"Maybe you are right," Nevalle said thoughtfully. "I have witnessed similar behavior in others who had been born on the wrong side of the sheets so to speak, especially amongst the merchant and noble classes. When you factor in money and titles, the situation gets even more difficult for them. Every one of these children I knew seemed to feel a pressing need to outdo the next person, to excel at everything they did, and most reacted badly when they didn't." He sat silently for a while thinking about that. Where a person came from, or what family they belonged to, never impressed him as much as the way they handled themselves. In his opinion, nobility was something you earned, not something you had by right of birth. By that standard, Ashara and her companions were the most noble people he knew for they had sacrificed everything for the greater good.

"Please, continue your story," Daeghun encouraged. He found himself eager to hear more about his daughter and her life after she had gone to Neverwinter. He felt he could finally gain some understanding of her by hearing of her deeds and actions.

"Well, the next time I saw her was during the trial," Nevalle felt a smile curve his lips at the memory. "You should have seen her performance, and performance it was. She has quite the sharp tongue on her and she's not afraid to let loose with it. She had Torio all flustered, to the point where the ambassador lost her cool, something I had never seen happen before. Needless to say I was not surprised at the not guilty verdict, no one was, not even Torio. However, when Torio called for Trial by Combat and that giant Lorne stepped up to champion her, I felt my blood run cold. As strong and capable a fighter I knew Ashara to be, I feared that she would die at Lorne's hands. What I had forgotten was how intelligent she was, a rare quality in someone who wields a sword and fights for a living."

"Many in the village who sparred with her forgot that too," Daeghun smiled faintly in remembrance. "Both Georg and myself made sure to cultivate her intelligence, made sure she learned to think about who she was going to fight and how, before she went out and did so. I believe that, more than anything else, is what made her succeed where others had failed. Lorne was big yes, but vulnerable because he fought with his emotions instead of his head. For someone like Ashara, even a giant of an opponent is no match for one of her skill if they lack the intelligence to fight smart."

"I have seen that too," Nevalle nodded. "I have seen people letting their anger or fear get the better of them, especially in battle. Of course the fight wasn't easy for Ashara, but she defeated Lorne and only suffered some easily healed injuries. I remember being surprised to see that she was using a greatsword. There are very few women outside of the barbarian tribes who have the strength to wield such a weapon effectively. However, Ashara showed a level of mastery with the weapon that belied her youth and I remember thinking that she couldn't have reached that level of proficiency without extensive practice."

"She did spend a great deal of time training with the greatsword, both on and off the training grounds," Daeghun nodded.

"Well I was very glad that she proved so capable, although at the time I didn't really understand why," Nevalle said. After pouring himself a refill, he continued his story. "That was the last time I really had any contact with Ashara, although I continued to keep tabs on her activities. It wasn't until I surprised her with Lord Nasher's request to rebuild Crossroad Keep that I had any lengthy contact with her. Her expression was priceless when she received the news," Nevalle chuckled a little at the memory. "She thought we were insane and she told us there was no way she could do it because she had no experience in such matters. As it turned out, she proved to be more than capable of the task, to the point where men flocked to the keep to serve under her. There is no one, not even myself, who could have done a better job. For this and other services rendered Lord Nasher decided to honor her with knighthood."

"How did she come to be a member of the Neverwinter Nine?" Daeghun asked. "I know that as the personal bodyguards for Lord Nasher the position holds a certain level of prestige and many aspire to such a position. However, few rarely get the opportunity because the positions are for life, are they not?"

"Yes they are, and if times were different then...," Nevalle's voice trailed off. He had like Melia but hadn't really gotten to know her outside of work, so while her death was distressing, it hadn't been as painful as Callum's. "We lost a member of the Nine a few months back. Melia had been tasked with protecting a shard that one of the nobles, a Lord Tavorick, had in his possession. Someone had been killing the nobles to get the shard."

"You are speaking of Ammon Jerro are you not?" Daeghun said flatly. The warlock had been the perpetrator of many evil deeds and deserved death for them. However, Ashara had needed his help in defeating the King of Shadows and so the matter was pushed to the side.

"Yeah," Nevalle spat in disgust. "That man committed unforgivable crimes and hopefully he will receive his just punishment someday. He killed Melia and stole the shard, leaving behind chaos and carnage. The Nine are chosen for various reasons, but we all work as a team. The loss of one member significantly reduces the effectiveness of the unit." He paused for a while thinking things over. "Where was I?" he asked, his speech slightly slurred do to the alcohol.

"You were going to tell me how Ashara became a member of the Nine," Daeghun reminded him softly. He had a feeling that by the time Nevalle finished his tale he would be too drunk to hear about Ashara's childhood, but that remained to be seen.

"Well, Nasher had me escort her to Castle Never for her knighting," Nevalle continued. "It was to be a big celebration, full of pomp and grandeur, something Ashara wasn't too keen on. She was reluctant to accept knighthood, saying that she wasn't sure it suited her, but she acquiesced to Nasher's command. It took me a while to figure out why she was reluctant. I finally realized that she felt uncomfortable amongst those of the court, felt out of place because of where she came from. However, I made sure she understood that being knighted was something that one earned, regardless of birth, race, or class."

"Seeing as how small villages such as West Harbor are insular, it should not surprise you that those who come from such places do not understand the ins and outs of politics, military structure, and other such matters," Daeghun spoke up. "I have some understanding of them because of my travels, but I never shared what I knew with Ashara for I believed she would never have need of such knowledge."

"I suppose you're right," Nevalle shrugged. "At any rate, before Nasher had the opportunity to perform the knighting, Castle Never was attacked, and I found myself fighting side by side with Ashara to defend those in the main hall. She was magnificent to watch," Nevalle murmured softly, admiration entering her voice. "Any who saw her fighting that day would have no doubt about her worthiness for knighthood. Having been cut off from the throne room by the security doors, I told Ashara about the secret tunnel under the castle that legend spoke of. She agreed to try to find it, which she did, and she managed to make her way to the throne room in time to save Lord Nasher. It was because of her determination to get to him and protect him that he offered her Melia's place amongst the Nine. I remember feeling thrilled to know that she would now be one of us, that now I would have more opportunity to see her and talk with her. When Nasher told me I would be assigned to the keep to help Ashara, I felt a flush of pleasure run through my body. It was then that I finally realized the depths of my feelings for her."

"How did you become involved with my daughter?" Daeghun asked. He saw Nevalle look at him nervously and bit back a smile. "The only thing that matters to me is that Ashara was happy. You are both consenting adults and may do as you wish. However, if it makes you more comfortable, then you should know that I am pleased with my daughter's choice."

"Many men yearned to be recognized by Ashara," Nevalle said softly. "I found myself amongst those who stared after her when she walked by. However, despite my desire for her, I was hesitant about pursuing her. I thought I had seen her looking at me in such a way as to indicate she would not be adverse to advances on my part, but I wasn't sure. Also, there were others who wanted her, others who were closer to her than myself. I knew how she felt about nobles and I was one of their number." He looked down into his mug for a while.

"You thought that your position and rank would be a deterrent?" Daeghun asked quietly.

"Yes I did," Nevalle nodded. "It wasn't until she seduced me that I realized how foolish I was being to think that it mattered to her." He saw Daeghun's eyebrows arch in surprise and chuckled. "Yes, she seduced me, captured me, bent me to her will. Then she told me how she felt and how she didn't care what others thought about our sleeping together. I had to endure hurt looks from Casavir and nasty comments and innuendos from Bishop, but Ashara was worth such discomfort. My biggest worry was how Lord Nasher would feel about it. We were now equals due to her promotions, but it was wartime, and as a general rule Lord Nasher frowns on his key people getting involved with each other during such times."

"It is never a bad time to allow love into your life," Daeghun said quietly. "If you hesitate you may lose the chance, something I learned the hard way. I did not admit to either Ashara or myself how much I cared for her. Now I can only hope that I have the chance to rectify that situation."

"Ashara told me about how she wasn't sure if you would care if she died or not," Nevalle said softly and saw the elf flinch slightly. "Why didn't you tell her how you felt?"

Daeghun sighed and leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. "It had taken me a long time to open up and let myself love Shayla. My years with her in West Harbor were some of the happiest of my life. She was my whole world and when she died during the attack on the village, my heart died with her, or so I thought."

Nevalle saw the pain in Daeghun's eyes and understood it for it was the same pain he felt now. "How did you come to be Ashara's foster father?" he asked quietly.

"Shayla and I were part of a group of adventurers before we settled down," Daeghun began. "One of the members was a young bard by the name of Esmerelle Thenner. Esmerelle was only a couple of inches taller than me, but had a spirit that was twice as big. She was always the one to cheer us up, to look on the bright side of things. She laughed easily and was kind and considerate towards all she met. I never saw her get angry even when she had every right to be. She was a born adventurer and when finally Shayla and I had enough and settled in West Harbor, she continued to travel the land. She would stop by from time to time to see how we were doing and to tell us of the places she visited and the things she had seen."

Nevalle refilled his goblet and held out the bottle to Daeghun, not seeing the frown cross the elf's face. When Daeghun declined he shrugged and sat back in his chair once again. "Esmerelle sounds very different from Ashara," he commented, his words coming out even more slurred than before.

Daeghun noticed the glaze in Nevalle's eyes and knew the man was not far from passing out, but he said nothing and continued his story. "I suppose she was, but then I am afraid you know my daughter better now than I do. At any rate, one of the times that Esmerelle returned to us she was pregnant. She asked if she could stay with us until the baby was born and of course we agreed. Shayla was very excited because we had tried for years to have a child and failed. Esmerelle's return gave her the opportunity to play mother and she looked after both of them closely. In all the time she was with us Esmerelle never talked about who Ashara's father was. She seemed to be almost fearful about us knowing him and so neither of us pressed the matter. The only thing she mentioned was that she wanted to name the child after her father and that is why she chose the name Ashara."

"That could be a version of Ashton, Ash, or even Ashley," Nevalle mused.

"It could be many things and speculating on it would be useless because we have no other solid information to go on," Daeghun waived him off. "The pregnancy was complicated by the size of the child. Esmerelle was small boned with narrow hips and we feared that she would not survive the birth. We gave her something to ease the pain, but it was still an agonizing sixteen hours before the child entered the world. It took hours for us to stop the bleeding but fortunately we were successful in saving Esmerelle's life. You see the child was over eight pounds at birth and we are lucky that neither mother nor child suffered irreperable harm from the process."

Nevalle paled as he realized the implications. "The gods must have been smiling on Esmerelle and her daughter, most would not have survived."

"Esmerelle was left in a weakened state for several weeks and unfortunately the experience disrupted her body's ability to produce milk for the child," Daeghun said quietly. Shayla and I took turns nursing Ashara on cow's milk from a bottle. I could see the bond forming between Shayla and the baby, so when Esmerelle asked us to take care of Ashara if anything happened to her we readily agreed. I never expected to be raising Ashara alone," he closed his eyes against the pain of the memories.

Nevalle sat silently and waited for Deaghan to gather his composure. He vaguely remembered Vale once saying something about the long memories of elves and shuddered to think what it was like living with such pain for such a long time. He would probably go mad if he had to do that and it was a miracle that Deaghun had not.

"I believe that it was only Ashara's presence in my life that kept me from retreating completely from the world," Daeghun finally spoke. "I had failed to protect Shayla and Esmerelle and I swore I would not fail them again. However, every time I looked into the girl's eyes I would remember her mother and Shayla and the pain of their loss would surface time and again. I forced myself to lock away my emotions so I could go through with my task. Unfortunately it took its toll on me in other ways for I was eventually unable to open up to anyone at all, not even my foster daughter."

"What was it like?" Nevalle queried. "You know, being a single parent," he clarified at the elf's puzzled look.

"It was very difficult for I had relatively few close friends in the village," Deaghun answered. "Retta Starling helped a great deal for she had two children of her own and a great deal of experience. It was difficult for both Ashara and myself, for many can be unkind in their thoughts and words, and all knew that Ashara was a bastard child. She was often taunted by some of the other kids and eventually she started fighting back, using her bigger size to great advantage. Those who ended up on the receiving end of her temper often came away with bloody noses and black eyes. Of course this caused strife between myself and other parents in the village. As always happens, most children grow out of such things and Ashara was no different. I believe it was mostly due to her friendship with another orphan named Amie Fern and Retta's second oldest child Bevil. The three of them were nearly inseperable and spent most of their free time with each other."

"You mean Bevil Starling?" Nevalle asked. "The one that is now Captain of the guards at Crossroad Keep? They were best friends since childhood?"

"You mean Ashara never told you?" Daeghun asked in surprise.

"She never gave details, just said he was a friend from West Harbor," Nevalle shrugged. "I never wanted to push her into talking about her childhood for she seemed to want to put it behind her."

Daeghun sighed and stared down at his hands. "I never suspected that she was that unhappy with her life. Then again I had made such an effort to distance myself emotionally that I would not have looked too closely at what she was feeling herself. Some might say I was wrong to raise her the way I did, but I did the best I could. Given where her life has taken her, then perhaps it was for the best. She learned to be independant and to rely on her own skills and wits. Everything that happens does so for a reason, even if the reasons are not immediately apparent."

"You said you and Georg trained her?" Nevalle asked as he emptied the last of the wine into his goblet.

"I began her training in the hopes of keeping her from fighting with the other children," Daeghun answered. "However, she grew so quickly that by the time she was twelve she was more than a match for me with a sword. You see by that time she stood about 5' 8" and weighed close to 150 pounds, and she had not finished growing. This gave her a longer reach and she was every bit as quick on her feet as myself. So I asked Georg to take over which he gladly agreed to do. It was Georg who realized that she had the size and the strength to wield the larger weapons and it was his suggestion to switch her from a longsword to a greatsword. You wield one yourself, so you know the advantage that such a weapon gives a fighter."

"Double edged and heavy enough to shatter lesser weapons if wielded properly," Nevalle nodded. "She never wanted to spar with anyone other than me for just that reason. In all honesty, it wouldn't have been fair to the men to have them partner her. It might even have lowered moral."

"That may be true for a similar thing occured amongst the miltia members," Daeghun agreed. "She became so proficient that even the biggest of them, Wyl Mossfeld and his brothers, were no match for her. This of course led to more bad feelings for those boys didn't like to lose at anything. More than once a sparring session would turn into an outright brawl amongst them. Ashara's temper had been softened but she could still erupt into a fury with enough provocation. By the time she was sixteen, she stood at 6' feet and weighed in at 195 pounds. She was a formidable opponent because despite her size she moved with a power and speed that most lack."

"What about boyfriends and such?" Nevalle slurred out, now having reached the point where he was slumped at the table with his head on his hand.

"None of the young men were interested in a girl who could beat them on the field," Daeghun snorted. "Perhaps because they felt threatened by her, or perhaps because most human males like to be the one in charge and with her that would never happen."

"Well I found the idea of being with a woman who could kick my ass with her eyes closed to be a turn on," Nevalle smirked. "It is nice to not have to be in control or to be the one who makes the decisions all of the time."

"Then you are the exception to the rule," Daeghun said quietly. He saw that Nevalle's eyes were starting to close and knew that anything else said at this point would fall on deaf ears. "It is getting late and I think we have spoken enough for one night," he said and got to his feet.

"Please tell me that she is alive?" Nevalle suddenly begged as he looked up at the elf. "I don't think I can live without her now. If she is dead then I might as well be dead too."

"That is the alcohol talking, it is clouding your judgement," Daeghun said sharply. "She is alive and we will find her, so do not think otherwise." He walked around the table and got Nevalle to his feet and then steered him towards his bed and helping him to lie on it. "I will send your squire to help you," he told the man before heading out of the tent.

Nevalle watched him go, his head spinning from all that he had learned as well as the wine he had drunk. Hearing about her life in West Harbor seemed to empahsize how special she was. He prayed to all the gods that he would find her, for while Daeghun thought that it was just the wine, he knew in his heart that his life would be meaningless without her. Finally he succomb to the wine he had drunk and passed out, never hearing Trevor come in and begin to undress him for bed.

Daeghun waited silently outside the tent for Trevor to emerge. When the boy finally came out and headed back towards the fire he stopped him. "Hold a moment boy," he commanded quietly.

"Yes sir?" Trevor turned to the elf, wondering how he knew his lord. The elf had an intense stare that seemed to look into his soul and it made him shiver a little.

"How long as Nevalle been like this?" Daeghun asked. "How long as he been drinking himself to sleep?"

"He's been having trouble sleeping for some time now sir," Trevor answered and then hesitated. It did not seem proper to speak of his master without him being there. However, if it was true that the elf was the Knight-Captain's father then perhaps it was okay to tell him. Perhaps it might even be helpful. "He only started the drinking a couple of days ago, after he started hearing the voices." He kept his voice low so that no one would overhear them.

"I see, thank you," Daeghun dismissed the boy and turned to stare thoughtfully at the tent. If it was indeed true that the drinking was a recent development, then perhaps Nevalle could be more easily convinced that alcohol would not solve his sleeping problems. Whatever trouble Ashara was in would require clear thinking and attentive behavior, neither of which were found at the bottom of a wine bottle. He was now glad that he had listened to the wind and hurried here for he had apparently arrived just in time. Nevalle needed help and there was no one else who would have the authority or the power to help him. Turning away, he headed off into the mere to find a quiet place to think and plan how to bring Nevalle back from the depths of despair and set him upon a path of hope.


	4. Chapter 3: The Truth Unfolds

Chapter 3: The Truth Unfolds

Daeghun stood silently observing Nevalle as the knight talked with Khelbar, the master engineer and head of the excavation party. In the week since he had come to the camp, Daeghun had seen Nevalle's overall condition improve considerably. It had not been easy getting the knight back from the brink of despair, but he had perservered and had even managed to keep him from the brink ever since.

The first thing he had done was sit Nevalle down and speak frankly to him about the wine he had been consuming each night. He had flatly told the man that all the wine did was mask the pain that he was feeling and that if he continued along that course then he would eventually be of no use to anyone, especially Ashara. Nevalle had responded by claiming he needed it to keep him from dreaming about Ashara and that it was the only way he could sleep. This was a typical human reaction to emotional problems and one that Daeghun had seen many times over the years of his adventures. Most humans were not aware that there were other, better ways to accomplish the same thing and he had told Nevalle this. He informed the knight of the various herbs that were available to brew into a tea that would give him the rest he needed without the harmful side effects of alcohol. With the help of the herbs, Nevalle would be able to sleep without dreaming and would feel more refreshed when he awoke. Even though he remained skeptical, Nevalle had agreed to try the tea and thus it had begun.

After only a couple of nights drinking the tea, Nevalle had noticed the difference, both mentally and physically. The knight had regained his appetite and energy and was slowly beginning to put on weight. Now, at the end of the week, Nevalle was almost as fit as he had been before Ashara had disappeared and was once again filled with the determination and drive to discover his lover's fate. However, despite everything, the knight still needed constant encouragement to keep him from slipping backwards. Daeghun sighed to himself as he realized that if they did not find the answers they were seeking, then all the tea and encouragement in the world would not keep Nevalle from falling down into despair once again.

Thus it had been with quiet relief that he had received the news that the engineers had finally succeeded in removing the debris covering the ruins. They had discovered an open chamber beneath the rubble that was accessible and had begun the process of shoring it up so that it could be explored thoroughly. The engineers were being extra careful in doing so, for the whole place was unstable and liable to collapse with a single wrong move. If it collapsed, then anyone who might still be alive beneath it would be crushed to death. Only once they were certain that they had done everything possible to support the structure would they allow anyone to enter.

"Master Khelbar feels that we'll be able to enter the chamber sometime this afternoon," Nevalle said as he approached the elf.

"That is good," Daeghun nodded. "We will have our answers soon and then we will be able to make further plans."

"I feel I should tell you that Khelbar isn't too optimistic about finding survivors down there," Nevalle said, unable to keep the doubt from creeping into his voice. "Based on what he has seen so far he claims it would be nothing short of a miracle if we do."

"My daughter is not dead Nevalle," Daeghun said firmly.

"Well we'll know the truth soon enough, won't we?" Nevalle asked softly and saw the elf nod in response.

The two men stood silently together for a while, watching the workers moving in and out of the ruins. Looking at Daeghun, Nevalle marvelled at the elf's unwavering belief that Ashara was alive. It made him wish that he could be as certain as that. The idea that Ashara being alive was just wishful thinking on his part wasn't easy to push away. It stubbornly remained, tickling at the corners of his mind and taunting him silently as he fell asleep each night.

"By the way, I want to thank you for what you've done for me," Nevalle said softly, not looking at Daeghun. "If you hadn't come here then I might very well have given up by now and lost myself to madness and grief."

"Your gratitude is welcome but not necessary," Daeghun replied. "My daughter loves you and she would want me to help you. Not only that, but I too was once like you, but unlike you I had no one to turn to or rely upon for help. Perhaps if I had, then my relationship with my daughter would not have been so strained."

"Ashara told me of how others in her village had said you closed yourself off due to the pain of losing your wife," Nevalle said. "I can understand why you did that, for many times I have felt the same way, wishing I could just stop feeling the pain of Ashara's absence in my life."

"The only way to stop feeling that pain is to close yourself off to every emotion as I did," Daeghun replied with a wry smile. "Just look at what the result was and tell me again if you feel it was worth it."

Nevalle mulled over that last statement for a while. He knew, from what Ashara had told him, that Daeghun had been perceived as cold and uncaring. Ashara herself had been convinced that she had been an unwanted and painful burden to her foster father. In his mind he picture a little red-headed girl, so desperate for any sign of emotion from her father, that she had deliberately gotten into fights and suffered her father's displeasure for it. He shivered a little at the thought of visiting such upon his family and friends and realized the elf was right.

"I guess learning to live with the pain is the better choice in the end," he mused aloud.

"That is something I have learned late, but hopefully not too late to heal the harm done," Daeghun nodded in agreement.

Knowing it would be a couple of hours yet before they could enter the ruins, the two men decided to have lunch while they waited. As they ate they talked about the weather, the various creatures that made their home in the swamp, avoiding all mention of Ashara and her companions. Nevalle felt his respect for Daeghun building as he listened to the elf speaking about things he had never before considered. The wood elf certainly knew his territory and was willing to share his knowledge with those who asked. Nevalle had been around wizards and scholars most of his life and had gotten used to the way one had to practically pry any information out of them. They always seemed to be jealously guarding their knowledge, holding firm to the belief that to spread it around was to invite disaster. It was not so with Daeghun and Nevalle found himself taking advantage of the opportunity to learn, a fact which seemed to please the elf. If Ashara and him were to have a future together, then that future would include Daeghun. Nevalle had a feeling that the way to impress Daeghun was to never stop listening and learning. Around mid-afternoon their talk was interrupted by the sight of Master Khelbar coming towards them. Both men got to their feet and silently awaited the dwarf and the news he brought.

"Well we've done our best and the ruins are as safe as we can make them," Khelbar boomed out as he approached. "You can enter the ruins any time you are ready," he finished as he came to a stop in front of them. Seeing them start to eagerly head off, he held up a hand to stop them. "Hold on a moment, there's a couple things you must know first before you go in there," Khelbar cautioned them.

"Such as?" Nevalle asked, not bothering to hide his impatience.

"Even though we've shored it up pretty good, the place is still unstable," the dwarf warned them. "I will be monitoring the situation while you're down there searching for clues. If at any point I see a potential problem and tell you to leave, you will do so immediately. You'll be of no use to Ashara or anyone else if you go getting yourselves crushed under a pile of rubble."

"Understood," Daeghun nodded firmly and proceeded to move off. However, Khelbar's raised hand stopped him before he had even taken two steps.

"I haven't told you everything yet," Khelbar said and then hesitated as both men stared intently at him. He knew how much the Knight-Captain meant to both men and wasn't sure how to give them the rest of the information. Deciding it was best to just spit it out he continued quickly. "We found a couple bodies buried under the rubble as we were moving around down there."

"Whose bodies?" Nevalle asked sharply and then held his breath for the answer.

"Well, the first one we saw was that of an older man with funny markings on his face," Khelbar answered and saw Nevalle's face crease in a scowl.

"That would be the warlock, Ammon Jerro," Nevalle spat, unable to keep his satisfaction of knowing the man was dead out of his voice. "Looks like the bastard got just what he deserved for all the pain and suffering he caused others."

"Do not be so uncharitable towards the man Nevalle," Daeghun said softly and saw the knight start in surprise. "Despite the evils he had done in the past, he did willingly sacrifice his life in order to save us all. I am positive that in his blind pursuit of his objective he angered many denizens of the Abyss. He has gone to a fate much worse than any of us can possibly imagine or expect for ourselves."

Nevalle merely stared at the elf, unwilling to be as forgiving as the other man. "Maybe, but it is a well deserved fate. You can forgive him, or make excuses for him if you wish, but don't expect me to do the same."

"You misunderstand me," Daeghan said tersely. "I am not excusing his past deeds, nor am I inclined to forgive him either. However, I can respect him for what he has done. He knew full well that he could die in that final battle and he certainly knew what fate held in store for him if he did. Yet, he did not let that deter him from following Ashara and doing what needed to be done. Many in his shoes would have turned away, would have chosen to save their own skins and thumbed their noses at those who did not."

"Like Bishop," Nevalle said flatly.

"Yes, like the ranger," Daeghun nodded. "Bishop could have chosen a different path, lived a better life, for Ashara had showed him how and given him every opporunity to do so. Instead the ranger let his fear, or anger, or jealousy have free rein and he closed his eyes to the possibility. Such a man is worthy of your contempt, but Ammon Jerro is not."

Nevalle merely shrugged and decided to let the subject drop, knowing that they would not be able to come to an agreement in this matter, at least not yet. "You said you found another body in the ruins?" he asked as he turned back to face Khelbar.

Khelbar cleared his throat and looked at his feet, not willing to meet their eyes as he told them the rest of what he knew. "There was another body buried under a massive pile of debris. All we could see of it was part of the head. The body had red hair," he finished and saw both men stiffen as their faces paled.

"There were three in the party who had red hair Nevalle," Daeghun warned quickly, masking his own sudden doubt. "The body they found is either that of Qara or Neeshka, count on it."

Nevalle merely looked at the elf, a bleakness coming to his eyes as his hope began to wither and die inside him. "Then let us go see for ourselves," he answered and then began to walk hurriedly towards the ruins. He kept telling himself over and over that it wasn't Ashara, that it couldn't be her. He kept telling himself that Daeghun would know if she was dead. Upon reaching the chamber, he saw a sloping path had been crafted that led down into it. Carefully traversing the path, he moved as quickly as possible down and inside the chamber. Once there, he quickly looked around for the pile of rubble Khelbar mentioned and finally spied it surrrounded by a handful of dwarves who were moving pieces of debris away. Moving quickly, he began to help them in their efforts, a quiet desperation evident in every move he made.

Daeghun had hurried behind Nevalle, knowing that if he was wrong and it was Ashara under the pile, then Nevalle might very well react in a most dangerous manner. The knight would need someone to calm him down and it was doubtful anyone else would be able to. He reached the place the dwarves and Nevalle were working, but saw that his help was not needed at the moment. So he stood to the side silently wathcing their efforts. Thus he was the first to see a pointed tail sticking out from the bottom of the pile and he quickly informed the others of his discovery. "The body is that of the tiefling Neeshka, I see the tip of her tail," he told them sadly. He wondered if the girl had died before or during the collapse of the ruins and if Ashara knew of her fate. His daughter had bonded very closely with the tiefling and they had been more like sisters to each other than leader and follower.

Nevalle released the breath he didn't know he was holding and felt his body go almost weak with relief at Daeghun's announcement. Then he rembered how close Ashara had been to Neeshka and his relief was replaced with sorrow. He remembered thinking it strange that anyone would trust such a creature, but Neeshka had proven her loyalty time and again. He had even come to be rather fond of the tiefling's antics and practical jokes. Even when times were darkest, Neeshka had managed to find a way to cheer everyone up, making her presence invaluable and her loss that much more painful. "We will bury her with every honor that her sacrifice entitles her too," Nevalle said quietly. "She was one of the truest friends and companions one could ask for and she will be sorely missed. Please see to the removal and care of her body for me," he told the dwarf next to him. Then everyone paused and held their breath as a clatter was heard and a small chunk of masonry fell from one of the cracked walls. When nothing more happened, Nevalle stirred and began his search of the area, looking for any clues as to what happened to the rest of the party.

In the meantime, Daeghun had seen something strange a little further in and gone to invesitagate. Now he was crouched over the remains of a body trying to determine whose it was. The figure appeared to have been wearing robes, and as far as he knew that meant the remains could only be that of Qara or Sand. The robes had been charred by some spell and were almost unidentifiable so he had to resort to making a determination based on the remaining bones. He was so engrossed in contemplation that he did not hear Nevalle approach until the man came to a stop beside him and squanted down.

"Who do you think this is?" Nevalle asked quietly.

"I am not positive for there is not much left of the body, but I think that this is all that is left of Qara," Daeghun answered. "She appears to have been killed by a powerful spell, meaning that Sand attacked her for some reason."

"How can you be sure it is the sorceress?" Nevalle asked. He couldn't help but wonder how Daeghun could make anything of the remains.

"I said I am not sure, however the remains seem to be too great to be those of an elf," Daeghun reiterated patiently. "This long bone here appears to be a femur, and if it is, then it is too big to belong to an elf. As there were only two members of the party that wore robes, and since the bone cannot belong to an elf, then logic dictates that it belongs to the human sorceress Qara."

"You said it appears that she was killed by a powerful spell, which would mean that Sand killed her," Nevalle said. "The question then would be why? Why would Sand attack a member of his own party when they needed to stand as one against the King of Shadows?"

"It is possible that it was Jerro and not Sand who killed Qara," Daeghun pointed out. "He would be the only other member of the party that would have that kind of power. However, the smell lingering on the body does not indicate to me that she was killed by Eldritch power, which is what Jerro uses. Of course the warlock had a great deal of knowledge and knew how to use scrolls and wands, so he could have used something like that. Still, the one most likely responsible for Qara's demise would be Sand."

"Why would Sand kill Qara though?" Nevalle mused aloud.

"I suspect that one of them turned traitor, just as Bishop did, and sided with our enemy," Daeghun replied. "Sand has a shady past and Qara was a foolish child. Either one of them could have been seduced to the other side by the enemy, if he could have made it worth their while."

"No way would Sand do such a thing," Nevalle said harshly. "Lord Nasher may have coerced him into helping Ashara in the beginning yes, but he stayed of his own free will. He even came to admire and like your daughter and tended to fret after her like she was his child. Ashara held him in high esteem and relied upon him completely, and she never failed to show her appreciation for his efforts. There is nothing the enemy could have offered Sand that would make him betray her, nothing," he finished emphatically.

Daeghun knew that Nevalle was a good friend of Sand and thus was not completely objective in his view of the moon elf. However, until they had more information, it was pointless to argue about it so he merely nodded at the the knight. "Let us continue our search for answers," he said aloud and stood up.

Nevalle was about to say something further when one of the men that had accompanied him from Neverwinter suddenly called out to them to come see what he had found. Moving quickly to the man's location, he saw that there appeared to be a passageway at the back of the chamber that had been blocked by more debris. Standing on tiptoe, he tried to see what was behind the rubble, but was unsuccessful. Then he turned his attention to the pile in front of him and saw a glint of metal peaking through. "There's another body under here," he stated and began to carefully move the pieces out of the way.

Judging by how big the pile they were clearing was, Daeghun figured it would be some time before they could get a better look and moved off to continue searching the chamber. Looking at the walls and seeing various scorch marks, charring, scrapes and holes, he came to the conclusion that this indeed had been the site of the final battle. He saw no other remains, but given the fact that Garius and the King of Shadows were undead creatures, it was not surprising that they had just disappeared upon dying. Still, he had to make sure that there was nothing else in the chamber to see before they went further in. So it was that he came across a small pile of debris under which he could see a sandal sticking out. The only one in the party with such footwear had been Zhjaeve, the githzerai cleric. The fact that she was dead was disappointing, but the woman had not been the easiest to deal with and thus he felt nothing one way or the other over her loss. However, he called to one of the dwarves to come and remove the body for buriel. She too deserved to be buried with all due honors for her sacrifice, regardless of everything else. After making sure that he had missed nothing, he headed back over to where Nevalle and the rest were working. He stood silently waiting to see what they would uncover.

"Sir, whatever's under here is big," one of the men spoke up, pointing at a long stretch of metal he had uncovered.

"Let me see," Daeghun said and moved forward to get a better look. "I believe that we have found the blade golem Ashara's party had with them. Grobnar controlled him and was never far from the thing's side when it travelled with them." He silently studied the wall and the archway, trying to determine the golem's position. "If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that Grobnar ordered the golem into this spot to act as a support for the archway. He would only do that if it was necessary for the rest to get through safely."

"Oh no!" Nevalle suddenly exclaimed as he removed a large chunk of debris. Underneath it he could see a small blond head covered by a silver arm. "It looks like Grobnar couldn't make it through and sought shelter underneath his golem," he said sadly. The little guy had been a nuisance most of the time, but he had been a favorite of Ashara's and she would be heartbroken over his loss. He stood and waited while the workers removed the remaining debris and then bent down to study the bodies.

"It does not appear as if Grobnar was hit by any of the debris," Daeghun said as he reached a hand in to touch the gnome. "His face is thin and his skin is very dry and cracked." Pulling one eyelid out of the way, the elf studied the gnome's eyes for a minute. "All the evidence indicates that Grobnar was buried alive under the rubble and the golem. He died due to lack of water," Daeghun continued his observations. "A body can go for many days without food and survive, but not without water."

"It doesn't seem fair for him to have survived the final battle only to die in such a manner," Nevalle shook his head. "I think it would be best that Ashara is never told how he died for she cared for the gnome a great deal and it would break her heart."

"Yes the way he died is not fair, but then few things in life or death are fair," Daeghun said. Another cracking noise alerted them once again to the fact that the place was very unstable. "We may not have much time left and we still have not found what we seek. We will find our answers down this passage," the elf pointed down the dark tunnel.

Nevalle got to his feet and, after giving instructions to the workers regarding Grobnar, climbed carefully over the remaining rubble and moved slowly down the passage, paying close attention to where he stepped. There was a great deal of debris scattered on the floor and he didn't want to risk injuring himself by proceeding with too much haste. As he walked he tried not to get his hopes too high, for even though it now appeared that Ashara and the other survivors fled this way, it did not mean that they all escaped.

Daeghun walked quietly behind Nevalle, studying the ground closely. Even though Nevalle had a torch to light thier way, the passage was still quite dim. However, as an elf he saw almost as clearly in the dim light as others saw in bright sunlight. He could see several different tracks in the dust indicating that a large group came running this way from the chamber behind them. Unfortunately, he was unable to determine exactly whose prints were whose, but given that no other remains had been found, then it meant that Ashara, Khelgar, Elanee, Casavir and Sand had all fled this way. It remained to be seen where exactly they had gone. He had to wonder about one thing though, and that was what had happened to Bishop. Supposedly the ranger had betrayed them so he could join the so called winning side. Ashara had defeated Garius and the King of Shadows so Bishop had ended up on the losing side in the end. That meant they should have found his body somewhere down here. So either the ranger had been completely obliterated by some spell, or he had not been present in the end. If the latter was the case then perhaps they would meet again someday and then the ranger would learn the error of his ways.

Nevalle suddenly came to a halt as the passage ended at a huge stone door. He could see no evidence of damage and the wall around the door seemed to be intact. However, he hesitated to open the door, for he was afraid of what he might find on the other side. Could Ashara's desperate flight to escape the ruins have ended here? Would he find her body and those of her companions just the other side of the doorway? He raised a hand and placed it on the handle of the door and then paused to gather his courage.

"Waiting will not change what is behind this door," Daeghun said softly as he placed a hand on Nevalle's shoulder. "Our answers are here and we have both waited long enough. Open the door," he ordered firmly.

Nevalle nodded and after taking a couple of deep breaths, pushed down on the handle and then pushed the door so it swung inward on silent hinges. Slowly he stepped inside, moving the torch higher and around in an attempt to see what was there. He smelled nothing other than dust and mold and the light showed no bodies piled nearby which he took as a good sign. The door had opened into what looked to be a small workroom. He could see a couple of tables with old alchemical equipment on them, convered in dust and cobwebs. There was a heavy layer of dust on the floor and the air was stale. The room had obviously not been used for decades or perhaps even centuries. He moved further into the room feeling his confusion growing. This was the only place the passage had led to unless there was a secret wall or door somewhere further back. So if Ashara had come here, then where was she now? As he neared the center he stopped and began to turn in a circle, looking for another door or opening in the room but finding none. He was about to tell Daeghun it was a dead end when he saw a gleam of silver near the back wall and moved towards it.

Daeghun had been peering intently around the room, same as Nevalle, and was just as puzzled as the knight. He could see no evidence of another door or opening into another passage, yet the prints on the floor clearly indicated that Ashara and the others had come here. It was almost as if they had all disappeared into thin air. He was about to say something to Nevalle when he saw the man suddenly stop and then stride purposefully towards the back of the room. Following after the man, he soon saw what Nevalle had: a gleaming silver, inverted horseshoe. It was a Song Portal, the old method of travelling used by the ancient people of the Illefarn Empire, and he saw that the tracks led right to it. He quickly deduced that Ashara and her surviving companions must have been able to go through it before it failed.

"It is a portal, but it appears to be just as dead as the one in Crossroad Keep," Nevalle said thoughtfully as he stared intently at it.

"It may not be working now, but it must have been in operation for a while at least," Daeghun replied. "Ashara's tracks lead right up to it, which means she and those with her were able to use it to escape. That means they made it out of here alive at least."

"Yes, but how long did it stay in operation?" Nevalled asked. "Did they all make it through or did they get caught inside of it as it collapsed? If they did make it through then where are they now? If they are alive somewhere why haven't we heard anything about it?"

Daeghun shook his head, "I cannot answer those questions for you Nevalle. I know much about the Illefarn Empire and their portals, but I have no knowledge of how they work or where they go to. Ashara and the others could have found themselves in a distant land or perhaps even on another plane entirely. Most likely they all jumped through without thinking of where they might end up. It is even possible, given the conditions, that some of them were injured or perhaps killed going through. Even though using it would have been extremely dangerous, they had no other means of escape available to them."

"Then what we need is to get a couple of wizards down here, preferably ones who specialize in divination," Nevalle said. "At least we know they did not die down here, that they are possibly alive and well even if they can't tell us or get a message to us. The mages of the Cloaktower will help us find where they went and then we can begin our search."

"So you intend to seek out Ashara yourself?" Daeghun queried and saw Nevalle's face harden.

"I promised Ashara that I would find her, that not even all the devils of the Abyss would keep us apart," Nevalle nodded. "I will not break my oath to her."

"What about your sworn oath to Neverwinter and Lord Nasher?" Daeghun asked sharply. "Surely you know how important your position is and you must also know that getting leave for such a personal reason would be difficult."

"I don't care about my position or whether or not Lord Nasher and others would approve," Nevalle said heatedly. "I waited my whole life for someone special like Ashara to come along and nothing else matters to me anymore. I will go and find her and if that means breaking my oaths to the city and Nasher then so be it."

"I would caution you to be careful in this matter Nevalle," Daeghun said quietly. "I have lived for over three hundred years and I have seen rulers come and rulers go. One thing they all seemed to have in common is reacting badly towards those who defy them. I would not see you jeapordize your position or your life over my daughter, and Ashara would not want that either."

"Whether or not Nasher gives me leave doesn't matter," Nevalle shook his head. "If he dares to call me traitor for it, after everything I have sacrificed over the years, then I will just not bother to return after I have found Ashara. I would find contentment living in a cave and wearing furs if Ashara was with me. I need nothing else."

Daeghun could find nothing to answer the man with and so kept his peace. He would make sure that Nevalle didn't suffer for his devotion to Ashara, even if he had to call in some old debts owed to him. He had saved them for when it mattered most, and there was no better time than now to use them. His daughter deserved nothing less from him. "We have learned all we can here and now we should see to those who have fallen. Then together we will travel back to Neverwinter to speak with these mages you mentioned. While there, both of us will have a meeting with Lord Nasher and hopefully we will be able to convince him to give you leave. Then, once we know where to begin our search, we will provision ourselves and set out. We will not return until we have found all of those who fled through this portal. After everything they have sacrificed for us, it is the least we owe them."

"I can think of no one that I would rather have by my side on my quest to find Ashara," Nevalle smiled at the elf. "Ashara told me that your skills as a hunter and a tracker were unmatched and I have a feeling that I will need such skills in the coming days. At the very least, I welcome someone to talk to who understands my reasons and doesn't think me a fool."

"Those who would think of you as a fool are ones not worth bothering with," Daeghun replied as he turned back towards the door. "I too will be glad of the company. For too long I have been alone and had forgotten the value of relationships. Together we will find Ashara and the others and see that they are returned home safe and sound."

Nevalle followed the elf back down the passage towards the chamber to see to the remains of those who died. All doubts about what course he must take and where his path was headed were now gone. He was filled once again with purpose and had not felt this alive in a long time. Ashara was alive and he would find her and then they would have the rest of their lives together, to live and love and perhaps start a family. A smile curved his lips as he pictured a son with his features and his mother's red hair and green eyes. Yes, that is what he would have, and to hells with everyone and everything else.

Upon reaching the chamber they quickly informed Master Khelbar and the others of what they had discovered. Their faces showed their relief that all their hard work had not been in vain. Many of them had begun to have doubts about finding any survivors and now they knew that somewhere, some of them had survived. Daeghun and Nevalle eagerly joined in the efforts to remove the bodies of Ammon, Zhjaeve, Neeshka and Grobnar to the surface. There was some discussion about removing the blade golem, but Master Khelbar determined that any attempt to do so would bring down the shaky walls of the chamber. As for Qara, Daeghun gathered what few remains there were of the sorceress and carried them out. Nevalle had said that he shouldn't bother with the traitor and had turned away. Daeghun had reminded the knight that they did not know the truth of what happened and would not know until such time as they found one of the survivors. He also reminded Nevalle that one of Neverwinter's most important rules governing the behavior of it's knights was to show respect for a fallen enemy and to bury them properly. Nevalle had merely scowled at the reminder and then grudgingly agreed to burying Qara. The knight was convinced that it was Qara who had turned, not Sand, and mere words would not change his mind.

So it was that two days later Daeghun and Nevalle were headed back to Crossroad Keep with the bodies. They would stay there only for as long as it took to perform burial rites and bring everyone up to speed on what they had discovered and what they had planned. Then they would ride with all due haste to Neverwinter to speak with the mages. Whether the mages could help them or not remained to be seen, but both agreed that they would begin the hunt with or without their help. It just would take them a little longer to find everyone. Daeghan knew that Ashara and the others were not in Neverwinter territory, for he had already searched the length and breadth of it and found no trace of them. That still left all the lands of Faerun and even the upper and lower planes to search. It sounded like a daunting task, but there were others who might be able to help narrow the places to search. So whether the Cloaktower mages proved helpful or not really did not matter. Daeghun had tracked many elusive creatures over the decades and knew how to find even the faintest of trails. Soon enough, he and Nevalle would find Ashara and make things right. It was merely a matter of time now.

"You know that when I left no one really believed that Ashara had survived?" Nevalle asked as he looked at the elf driving the wagon. Seeing a puzzled expression cross Daeghun's face made Nevalle realize that the elf was not aware of the scouts' reports. "I had dispatched scouts to the Mere to find out what had happened. One went to Neverwinter and the second came to Crossroad Keep. Both carried the same message: that the final battle had caused the earth above the ruins to cave in and bury all that was beneath it. It was their opinion that there could be no survivors and everyone agreed with them, including Kana and the Neverwinter Council. They gave up on Ashara. They just accepted the fact of her death and basically told me I was chasing a dream with my plan to excavate the area."

Daeghun heard the hint of bitterness and the outright contempt in Nevalle's voice and felt compelled to say something in Kana's defense. "Kana has not yet seen enough of battle, or life even, to know that strange things can and do happen all the time. You and I have both witnessed impossible, some would even say miraculous events, and as such are more willing to believe in the impossible than most others. All too often people accept the easy choices, or the quickest path and refuse to consider anything else. It is just how they choose to cope with things that are difficult to deal with. Do not be too hard on Kana for her beliefs, it is just her way of dealing with a painful situation."

Nevalle shook his head, "No, this is something I can't forgive, yet. Maybe in time, when I once again hold Ashara in my arms and know that she is truly safe, I might be able to forgive them their short sightedness."

Daeghun said nothing, merely stared ahead at the road, wondering why humans were so stubborn so much of the time. He supposed that in a way their stubborness was of benefit, especially with a situation such as the one involving Ashara. Yet at times like this, when he tried to reason with them, their stubborness was more of a hindrance than anything else. Perhaps as he came to know Nevalle and Ashara better he would come to some understanding of human ways. One thing he was positive of was that humans were never boring. "For the time being let us focus on what needs to be done to find Ashara and the others. That is all that is important now," he said aloud and saw Nevalle nod his agreement.

"As we don't know where they might be, we won't know how long it will take us to find them," Nevalle said after a while. "I know that you will be able to find game for us and that you most likely know where to find water, but we will have to provision ourselves well."

"That is true, but we may find ourselves travelling in desolate areas," Daeghun replied. "As such, we should buy extra canteens and food rations and a horse to carry them."

"We don't need to buy anything," Nevalle countered. "Crossroad Keep has everything we need, for Ashara planned well and made sure we could survive a siege by the enemy, if it came to that. There are extra horses, canteens, dried rations, and anything else you think we'll need. Ashara is still the Knight-Captain and master of the keep and she left me in charge. Even if she hadn't, I am still the Captain of the Nine and Nasher's right hand, which gives me authority over all within the keep. I can requisition from the keep stores, stables, and armory anything you feel we will need for our journey."

"Very good, that will save us time," Daeghun nodded.

The two men fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts about what the future now held for them. It would be a long, arduous journey of discovery, but they knew that they would find what they were looking for in the end. Each made a silent vow that they would not return to Neverwinter until they did.


	5. Chapter 4: Far From Home

Chapter 4: Far From Home

The moon elf stood at the small window gazing out over the verdant farm, watching the wheat in the fields swaying in the gentle breeze. It was a beautiful, sunny day in the Dalelands and it should have lifted his spirits. However, it would take more than a beautiful day to lift them after the events of the past few weeks. It hardly seemed possible that it was not even a year ago that she had walked into his life, for so much had happened, more than enough for any one elf's lifetime. He sighed as his mind unwillingly focused on the events that brought him here, far from Neverwinter and everything he had known. That final battle had been arduous in the extreme, taking every ounce of power and energy he had just to stay alive. Then to have barely escaped the collapsing ruins by jumping through a shaky portal with no idea of where one would end up, it amazed him that he was still in one piece. Still, desperate times required desperate measures and he had gambled and won. He had been spit out of another portal with enough force to break every bone in his body, but he had been fortunate to land on a soft patch of grass which cushioned his fall. A bump on his head, several cuts and some minor fractures of his ribs were the sum total of his injuries. He had found his pack not far from where he landed and had used the last of the bandages to wrap his ribs and a simple cure potion to ease the pain of the wounds. Now two weeks later, he was still sore but at least he was healing.

Hearing murmured words and movement coming from behind him, he turned to see the paladin was having yet another dream, or nightmare depending on your point of view. Sand debated with himself on whether or not to attempt to wake him or put him back into a deep sleep. He snorted at that last thought. He barely had the energy to cast a light spell, there was no point in wasting what little he had left. Walking over to the bed he stood out of arms reach and called to the man.

"Casavir wake up," he said loudly and reached out with his staff to poke him.

Casavir's eyes snapped open and he reared up in bed with a final cry, "Ashara!"

"She is not here," Sand told him sarcastically. "It is still quite early and while you will not wake anyone with your cries, you might just make them think you are possessed by demons. So please, keep it down to a dull roar."

Casavir passed a hand across his face, trying to banish the last memory of Ashara as she jumped through the portal with him right behind. "I know she is not here wizard so save the sarcasm for someone who can fully appreciate it," he retorted.

Sand felt his lips twitch in amusement for the comment seemed so out of character for the paladin. Although, given what they all had been through in recent weeks, he should not be surprised by the changes in the man. "I know you promised to protect Ashara, and I know that it eats at you that we do not know where she is or if she is still alive. But please, stop torturing yourself over something you had no way of preventing. You will sleep better at night if you do, and I would benefit from that immensely," he said sharply.

"I see that recent events haven't softened your tongue," Casavir felt his own lips twitch. "I just can't seem to stop thinking about what we might have done differently."

"That is my point Casavir," Sand sighed. "We had no choice but to use the portal, despite the obvious fact that it was collapsing and that we could be killed. It meant certain death if we stayed so we all jumped through on a wish and a prayer. We both survived the journey and there is no reason to think that the others did not." He turned away to go back to the window to look out. "You are the holy warrior, the one who is supposed to have unwavering faith, yet it is I who firmly believes in our companions survival capabilities. Kind of ironic, no?" he smirked.

Casavir glared at the wizard for that remark, but unfortunately couldn't think up a response to it. Witty repartee was definately not one of his strong suits and he had learned long ago that a verbal battle with Sand would be a lost cause, so he didn't even try. Getting out of bed, he walked over to the small dresser and poured some cold water from the jug there into the basin. After splashing some water on his face, he paused to study his reflection in the small mirror. His face was still bruised, but the cuts were healing. These were remnants of the wounds he had recieved in the final battle, and his body still ached from it. He had been more fortuante than Sand on his journey through the portal, for he had not been spit out on the other side with as much force. Probably because he was physically bigger and had been wearing heavy armor at the time.

"I am being selfish thinking only of myself," he finally said. "I know that Nevalle made you promise to send word to him if we survived. It must irritate you that you have no means to do that at the present time."

"Yes it does, but mainly because it is taking longer than I would like for me to get my strength back," Sand replied. "I know a couple of spells I could use to facilitate such an endeavor, but they are beyond me at this time. However, other possibilites may soon present themselves to us, given the fact that we are not that far from a major city."

"You said last night that we were in the Dalelands, more specifically about half a day's walk from Battledale," Casavir reminded him, a frown crossing his face.

"Mmm, yes and I can see by your frown that you know something of the area," Sand said shrewdly.

"The armies of Battledale are some of the best trained soldiers in Faerun, however they are also reputed to be rather merciless in their dealings with outsiders," Casavir replied. "You will find no temples to Tyr or Mystra here. They tend to favor the war gods and goddesses."

"I am aware of that," Sand snorted. "However, I also know that as long as we obey their laws and do not cause any trouble, then we will be fine. Fortunately, neither of us are prone to mischief making. It makes me glad that we do not have the dwarf and the tiefling with us."

"Neeshka is not with us because she died in those ruins," Casavir said sharply, his voice cold. "Do not forgot that wizard."

"I have not forgotten that," Sand said soothingly. He had forgotten how touchy paladin tempers were and Casavir was no longer as even tempered as when they had first met. He had changed, just like everyone who hovered around Ashara had changed. "I was just remembering how many problems those two caused for us and at a time when we certainly did not need any more."

"Ashara was distraught by Neeshka's death," Casavir remenisced. "I hope that Khelgar is alive and well for I don't believe she could handle his loss too."

"You know that I am quite fond of trips down memory lane," Sand said in a tone that implied otherwise. "However, time is wasting and we must be off to Essembra soon or we will not reach it before nightfall. Trust me when I say it is far better to arrive in that city while the sun is shining. People will be able to clearly see that we pose no threat and thus will be more open. We should be able to find horses, provisions, and anything else we might need for our journey to Neverwinter."

"I thought we were going to try to find the others Sand?" Casavir asked, a frown once again on his face.

"Yes, but we also need to let those who remained behind know that we are alive," Sand stressed. "Seeing as how we have no idea where to begin looking, then heading back to Neverwinter is as good a direction as any other. Plus, once we are there, I will be able to consult with the mages of the Cloaktower and perhaps get a clearer picture of where Ashara might be. Unless of course you wish to wander aimlessly about the land until our money and our provisions dry up," he finished, not bothering to mask his sarcasm.

"Very well," Casavir conceded. "However, if during our journey we learn anything that says we should head in a different direction, then I intend to follow the trail wherever it might lead. I made a promise to Nevalle that I would bring Ashara back to him and I will keep it." His tone of voice and the look in his eyes challenged the wizard to gainsay him.

"Of course, of course, no need to get your underwear in a bunch," Sand snorted, rolling his eyes at the fervent tone of the paladin's voice, and then chuckling at the blush that colored Casavir's face. Paladin modesty was something that never ceased to amuse him. "I thought that you had learned to relax a little since you took up with Ashara, but apparently I was wrong."

"You said we would be able to buy the things we need in Essembra, but in case you haven't noticed, neither one of us is exactly flush with coin," Casavir pointed out as the began to put on his armor. Usually he forego wearing it if he wasn't going into battle, but given where they were, it was prudent. After all, the holy symbols of Tyr were embossed all over the plate and his shield, and this more than anything else would set people at ease. It would also give any potential troublemakers pause.

"I do have a few magic items and trinkets that I can sell," Sand said as he packed his gear up. " I do not really need them anymore and they can be replaced with little or no effort. I should be able to acquire enough coin for our purposes."

After taking one last look to make sure nothing was forgotten, they left the bedroom in search of the farmer and his wife. When they inquired as to how much they owed for the use of the farmer's bedroom, they were met with denials that they owed anything. Noticing that the farmer's wife had some inflamed cuts and the two children appeared to have colds, Sand dug through his pack and found a couple of ointments and some herbs he had that would help and gave them to the woman. Trying not to show his embarassment at their profuse thanks, Sand quickly scurried out of the farmhouse, leaving Casavir to catch up.

As Casavir fell into step beside the wizard he studied him intently, noticing the flush on the wizards face. "Perhaps I am rubbing off on you Sand, that was a very kind and generous thing you just did, even if their thanks embarassed you."

"Oh, my motives for doing it were not that sterling," Sand denied. "It was simple logic that motivated me. Word travels fast in a place such as this, and it is to our benefit if that word is good. By giving them some nearly useless items I am generating good will, building our reputation as honest and generous travelers."

Casavir said nothing, but had to hide his smile behind his hand. It was not easy to fool him with words, and Sand may be gifted with a silver tongue, but he wasn't that good. As they continued down the road in the direction of Essembra, they discussed what items were essential to their travels and what items might be of use at some point. Given that they really had no idea of where to go other than back to Neverwinter, it made it hard to plan ahead.

"While I have never set foot in Essembra, I do know of certain places in the city where we can find what we need," Sand said. "There is Beldrag's finest, a stable where travelers can exchange their mounts for fresh ones. One can also purchase mounts from there as well. The owner takes pride in his reputation of dealing in good, reliable horseflesh. He never sells a horse that has any kind of ailment or injury. We will just have to hope that he has something available that is not too expensive, even though we only need one animal to carry supplies for us."

"So you don't wish to purchase a riding horse for yourself?" Casavir asked, intently assessing the wizard's condition.

"Contrary to popular belief, moon elf wizards are not as delicate as we seem," Sand snorted. "I am well on my way to full health, and spending all that time gallavanting about the countryside with you sword slingers has put in great physical shape. I am certainly capable of walking as far as you," he sniffed.

Casavir laughed at that, earning him another glare and a harrumph from the wizard. "I meant no offense Sand, I was merely concerned about you. After all, you did suffer more than I did when we were thrown out of that portal."

"Your concern is appreciated but not necessary, thank you," Sand nodded. "Now, the first stop we will have to make is at a place called The Hitching Post. It is a general store and I should be able to sell some things there to raise the coin we will need. It is also where we will be able to find the provisions for our journey."

"What about accomodations?" Casavir queried. "We will need a good night's rest in a safe place before we head out into the wilds again."

"The only place I know of is The Green Door, a well respected inn," Sand said. "There is also reserved space inside Essembra's walls where travelers are allowed to pitch their tents, and it is free. Where we choose will be largely dependant on how much money we will have left after purchasing the necessary items."

"As long as it doesn't require us to set a watch, then I am not too particular where we sleep," Casavir replied. "I have become accustomed to sleeping out of doors in the past monts and I have no problem with it."

"As have I," Sand agreed. "As for places to eat, we will have to ask about that. There are a few to choose from and I prefer to get recommendations from the townsfolk before eating in a strange place. Saves me from eating something that disagrees with me." He eyed the man next to him sideways before broaching the next subject. "I think it might be a good idea to spend some time in one of the local taverns. Barkeeps are notorious gossips, as Duncan proved time and again. It will mean that we will have to buy at least a drink or two, for we would not want to seem out of place or arouse anyone's suspicions."

"What purpose would that serve besides spending coin we might need for something else?" Casavir couldn't keep the distaste from his voice.

"The defeat of the King of Shadows is most likely the biggest news on the face of Faerun at this time," Sand said impatiently. "By spending an hour or two in a tavern, we may hear news that will help us in our search. If the idea bothers you that much, then you can just remain outside and polish your hammer."

Casavir felt his face turn red, with anger this time. "That sounds like something that bastard ranger would have said. I expected better from you Sand."

"I am sorry, but I thought you had become less of a prude," Sand retorted. "Casavir, our journey to seek the others may require that we do things and go places that will probably offend your moral sensibilities. If I have to have this same argument with you each and every time, I may just decide to turn you into pack mule. So tell me now if you cannot handle such things, thereby saving us from unpleasantries down the road."

Casavir looked ahead to the road in order to get his anger under control. "I will be able to handle it," he said finally. "If it is required that I endure such things in order to keep my promise to Nevalle, then I will manage."

"If you wish to talk, I am a very good listener," Sand offered.

"Talk about what?" Casavir asked, although he had a pretty good idea of what the wizard was getting at.

"You know what," Sand said sharply. "Ashara's decision to let Bishop just walk away angered you, and it still angers you to this day. Your hatred of the ranger makes you unable to see the reason behind her decision, or accept such a decision."

"He betrayed her and us," Casavir snarled. "The worst part of it was not that it left the keep more vulnerable. It was that his actions caused Ashara to doubt herself and her abilities. She felt that if she could have made such a terrible mistake in trusting Bishop, then everything else she had done and was about to do might be a mistake as well. He hurt her deeply and yet she still let him walk away. She bought his story of a tortured past and felt sorry for him."

"Did she tell you this?" Sand queried lightly and saw him shake his head. "Then how can you be so certain that is the reason for her actions?"

"What other reason could there possibly be?" Casavir asked heatedly. "I know that she liked him, and was even attracted to him in some way. He knew this and played upon those feelings."

"Let me tell you what I think her reasoning was," Sand said quietly. "And I want you to listen with an open mind. Dying is the easy way out, the cowards way out. Ashara could have challenged him and she would have succeeded in killing him if she had. However, that would have served no purpose, would have been meaningless. By letting him walk away, she has given him the opportunity to think about everything that has happened, and about everything he has thrown away. I highly doubt that Bishop is sleeping easy these days, if for no other reason than the fact that her decision to let him live will eat at him. He was too much of a coward to take his own life. He thought he could get Ashara to solve that problem for him, but she did not take the bait."

Casavir mused over Sand's words, trying to see if perhaps the wizard was right. Perhaps there was some truth to it, for he loved Ashara deeply, and he knew that love could often blind people to the truth. Thinking on it, he came to realize that Sand had a point. Letting the ranger live was a far more cruel punishment than death. The asshole had been prepared to die, but had not been prepared to live with his actions. He hoped that was the case and that the ranger was suffering sleepless nights because of it. "I suppose that letting him live was a far greater punishment than killing him."

"I have lived for over four hundred years and I know of what I speak," Sand nodded. "People like Bishop are too afraid to live, but lack the courage to end their own lives. Thus they seek out someone capable of doing the job for them and act in such a way as to bring it to pass. Ashara may have been a head basher from a swamp village, but she certainly was not stupid."

"Thinking of that bastard turns my stomach," Casavir growled. "I would prefer to change the subject or walk in silence for a while."

"Certainly," Sand said pleasantly and fell silent. He of course did not know if what he said was true concerning Ashara's motives, but he suspected it was. If the girl had one flaw, it was believing that everyone could change if they were given the opportunity. She had given the ranger every opportunity and he had thrown it all away. So letting him live to think about his choices was a more fitting punishment.

They had walked for about an hour more in silence when Casavir noticed that Sand seemed to be moving slower. "I see a nice shady spot just ahead. Why don't we take a short break, have some breakfast?"

Sand nodded his agreement for he was feeling a little tired. He had not quite recovered fully from his harrowing trip through the portal. As they sat down, he took a sip of water and then had a small bite of bread the farmer had given them. "I thought I knew Nevalle quite well, but I certainly never pictured him falling for someone like Ashara," he mused aloud.

"Is that because he is a noble and she is not?" Casavir asked. Seeing Sand look away he had to stifle a snort. "I was born a commoner, but I became a paladin of Tyr and later a knight of Neverwinter. I had a good number of dealings with the nobility and I know that they look down their noses at commoners and don't accept them amongst their ranks. Despite all her titles, Ashara is a commoner still, and will always be an outsider. The only reason I didn't get shut out was because I was a paladin. Paladins, clerics, and wizards are the only ones who are readily accepted amongst the nobility regardless of their birth."

"And that is because of their power," Sand nodded. "There are only two things the nobility respect: money and power. Ashara has neither, and Nevalle's choice to start a relationship with her came as a bit of a surprise."

"He came to me you know, after he had first slept with her," Casavir said quietly. "Ashara had told him about how I felt and he wanted to assure me that she was not a passing fling for him. We had known each other for years, and I already knew that Nevalle was not the kind of man that would use Ashara and then cast her aside. I knew he had long been looking for someone who was his equal, someone who understood the dictates of duty. That he found that in a beautiful commoner is just one of the pleasant surprises that life hands out sometimes."

"Ashara knew how that you loved her?" Sand couldn't hold back his surprise.

"Yes," Casavir nodded. "She had come to me a few weeks prior and we talked. She told me that she liked me, that she cared for me, but that her feelings were more akin to that of a girl for a favorite older brother." He saw Sand wince and smiled wryly. "No man in love with a woman wants to hear that she thinks of him as a brother. I was truly happy for them both, even if I was a little jealous that Nevalle had won her heart. Even paladins are not above such emotions."

"When we do find her and reunite the lovebirds there will be resistance to their continued relationship," Sand warned.

"I don't think Nevalle cares about that," Casavir said. "While he didn't come out and say it, I know that he will readily give up his titles if it means he can have Ashara. He had been searching for someone like her for a long time. When you wait that long, you don't let go of what you found so easily."

"Despite the fact that Nevalle got me into this whole mess in the first place, and while I do not care if he is happy or not, I do care about Ashara and her feelings," Sand said quietly. "For that reason alone I will support them as best I can."

"Are you rested enough?" Casavir asked and when Sand nodded got to his feet to continue on down the road. The countryside was one of the most beautiful he had ever traversed. The lush fields, the abundant crops, the plentiful herds of cattle and sheep. Even the air seemed to be almost perfect and he wondered what it would be like to settle here. If Nasher and the other nobles of Neverwinter turned their backs on Nevalle, then the knight could make a new home for himself and Ashara here. Nevalle's and Ashara's skills as warriors and their strong sense of duty would be welcome and he made a mental note to mention it to them.

Finally, about an hour before sunset, they reached the gates of Essembra and breathed a sigh of relief that the first leg of their journey was over. They were stopped by the guards on the gates who carefully studied them before asking them to state their business.

"I cannot tell you how relieved I am that we have finally made it here," Sand told them. It had been agreed that Sand would do all the talking and negotiating. "I am on an errand to Neverwinter, but my silly pack horse was spooked by a wild boar and bolted right into a river. The stupid animal lost its footing and was swept away downstream taking all of our extra supplies with it. When I learned from farmer Dobson that I was so close to Essembra, I could barely contain myself. I knew that I would be able to find what I needed amongst your excellent establishments."

"I can tell by his equipment that your companion is a paladin in service to Tyr," the guard fixed an intense stare on Casavir.

"Sir Casavir is in service to my master, Lord Gerhardt of Kenswick, a small township of Damara," Sand replied smoothly. "He has been tasked to see me safely to Neverwinter."

The guard nodded and then opened the gates to let them through. "You can find provisions at The Hitching Post and I know Beldrag can help you with a replacement for your lost horse. You can set up camp in the South Field for the night or you can stay at The Green Door although that inn is rather expensive."

Sand and Casavir nodded their thanks and headed down the road in the direction the guard had indicated the store was. "Now you see what I meant about being careful of what you do while within the borders of Battledale. I saw the guard call over a runner and then send him off back the way we came. I would lay odds that the boy has been sent back to the farmer to confirm our story," Sand said quietly.

"Yes and now your actions will give credence to our presence here," Casavir nodded. "I suspect however that it is only those who are up to no good that need be concerned by such close scrutiny. I find it comforting that they take such care to limit trouble within their walls, it makes it easier to sleep at night."

"Let us quickly conduct our business and then go see about any rumors that might be floating about, shall we?" Sand quirked an eyebrow at his companion.

Their first stop was the general store where Sand managed to negotiate a fairly good price for the few scrolls, wands and magical rings that he had in his possession. Leaving Casavir to order the necessary supplies, he then headed over to Beldrag's to see what he might find in the way of a sturdy pack horse. Beldrag he found to be quite honorable and was able to make a fairly good deal for a healthy animal. Looking over the available mounts he was tempted to purchase one for riding. He could take turns riding the animal with Casavir, thus making their journey a little bit easier. Beldrag saw his hesitation and began pointing out various ones, showing off their strengths and giving a detailed account of how he kept his stables. In the end Sand agreed to paying a hundred gold for a fine six year old gelding and then led the two animals back to the store.

"I thought you were only going to buy a pack horse?" Casavir asked, his eyes sparkling with humor.

"Yes well, Beldrag had such a fine selection and I did get more than I expected for those items," Sand shrugged. "I figured that we can take turns riding him, thus saving our energy just in case we run into trouble along the way."

After loading their supplies onto the pack horse, they headed towards the south field to see about setting up camp for the night. As they neared the entrance they saw a couple of guards standing just outside and they were halted and told the rules about using the field.

"You can set up in any spot you wish," one guard told them. "There is a fresh water pond from which you can drink, fill your canteens and water your animals. If you wish to visit one of the taverns after you set up camp, there are boys whom you can hire to watch over your things. The fee for their services is one gold should you choose to make use of them."

Nodding at the guards, they headed into the field and began looking for a comfortable, but out of the way spot. They wanted to keep close contact to a minimum, just as a precaution against being recognized. As they were setting up their tent, a lad of about twelve came over and asked if they would be staying or visiting the taverns. As they had already decided both of them would go, they paid the boy and then asked for a recommendation.

"You can't go wrong with The Silver Taproom sirs," the boy said. "They have the largest selection of drinks in Essembra and the food is very good. The prices aren't too bad either, nor are the patrons."

Casavir removed his armor with the help of the boy, paying him another gold for volunteering. Then after they had washed the dust of the road from their faces and getting directions from the boy, they set out in search of the tavern. When they reached it and stepped inside, they were pleasantly surprised at how clean and airy it was.

"Well, I guess it has been so long since I have been inside a quality place that I had forgotten what it was like," Sand smirked. "Of course, having only Duncan's disreputable place to go by, that is not surprising."

"Let us take seats at the bar," Casavir nodded, also pleasantly surprised. He had become so used to the Sunken Flagon that he had forgotten that Duncan's tavern was not how most were kept.

Finding a couple of stools at the far end, they waited quietly until the bartender came over to them. "What can I get you folks tonight?" the big, burly man asked.

Sand studied him and knew that part of the reason the patrons were not rowdy was because of this man. He had the look about him that said if you wanted to cause trouble then you would have to answer to him. Not something anyone with half a brain would want to do. "We just set up our tent in the south field and the young man we hired to watch it recommended your fine establishment," Sand told him and saw a pleased smile crease the man's face. "He said that you have a specialty, some form of tasty meat pie?"

"Yes indeed," the bartender nodded. "We also have several fine selections of ale on tap. If you like a strong full bodied ale, there's Archenwood Stout. If you like a little kick to your ale, I have Purple Dragon Breath. And if you're looking for something a little more refined, there's Shadowdark Ale. If none of those are to your taste, we have half a dozen other brands, as well as several choice wines available."

Sand ordered a meat pastry and the Purple Dragon Breath, while Casavir order the pastry and a Shadowdark Ale. Their food and drinks arrived promptly and they fell to with gusto. Casavir liked the pastry so much that he ordered a second one, much to the barkeep's delight. As they sat there they kept their ears open for any hint concerning Neverwinter and the fate of the companions. The barkeep stopped by again and struck up a conversation with them.

"So, what brings you to Essembra gentlemen?" he asked.

"I am on an errand to Neverwinter for my master Lord Gerhardt," Sand replied and was surprised when the bartender started laughing. "Why is that amusing?"

"I was just thinking that you were lucky to be heading there now and not a few monts ago," the man chuckled.

"Why is that good sir?" Casavir asked.

"Well, word is that Neverwinter had some big war that ended not too long ago," the man answered. "Nasty stuff from what I've heard. Something about undead and shadow armies wreaking havoc across the realm."

"Oh dear, is it safe to travel there?" Sand asked, faking alarm at the prospect.

"Yeah, yeah," the bartender waived of his concern. "Word is that some hero from the swamps came up and with the help of a group of adventurers, kicked some serious ass and sent all the nasties back to the hells."

"Well that is a relief," Sand whooshed out. "I really do not think I would want to run across those creatures you mentioned. So what happened afterwards? Did Lord Nasher throw a party welcoming home the conquering heroes?

"Nah, apparently they all died," the man shook his head sadly. "Word is that they won but were buried in some ruins that collapsed, no survivors. Not only that, but I heard that the people of Neverwinter are just going about their business as usual. One would think they'd have had some kind of memorial for those brave souls, but no. Then again, I always felt that the people of that city were arrogant and condescending so I'm not surprised." With that he moved off to tend to other patrons, leaving Sand and Casavir staring into their mugs in silence.

The two men stayed a while longer, ordering another drink and trying to hear if anyone else was talking about something of interest to them. Finally, after finishing, they paid the tab, tipping the bartender extra for the information, and then headed back to their camp. Upon arriving, they saw the boy had laid out their bedrolls for them, brushed the horses down, and even cleaned Casavir's armor. Casavir smiled and thanked the boy by giving him another gold piece. Then they sat for a while in silence, neither feeling particularly sleepy.

"Well it seems as if we are dead to those in Neverwinter," Sand finally spoke, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice.

"I would have thought that Nevalle at least would have made some effort to determine Ashara's fate," Casavir said flatly.

"If he did then the news certainly has not reached this far yet," Sand placed a hand on the paladin's shoulder. "I do not believe that Nevalle would accept our deaths withouth proof. If that is the case, then he will go to the ruins and excavate them if necessary. He will then discover that some of us survived and escaped and he will be looking for us, count on it."

"We can't be certain of that, so we will have to travel to Neverwinter, if only to prove to them that we are alive," Casavir growled. "I suppose I should not be surprised that Nasher would just as soon forget about us. He did the same thing during the last war. When all was said and done, he showed the hero that saved his city to the gates without so much as a fare thee well."

"Unfortunately that is how those in power often react to someone who comes along and solves their problems for them," Sand snorted. "They seldom want to admit to incompetence and thus are quick to shove aside anyone that shows them up."

After sitting quietly for a while longer, they both decided to call it a night. They wanted to get an early start in the morning, for the sooner they reached Neverwinter, the sooner they could move on with the task of finding the other survivors.


	6. Chapter 5: Of Dwarves and Halflings

Chapter 5: Of Dwarves and Halflings

The halfling man watched as the dwarf tossed and turned in his bedroll, obviously in the grips of some nightmare. He and his wife had been journeying back to Everlund when they had stumbled upon the badly injured dwarf. So they had decided to make camp and tend his wounds. The dwarf wore the finest armor they had ever seen, but it had several rents in the metal, as well as scorch marks and a great deal of dried blood. The only explanation they could think of for this was that the dwarf had been in some kind of big battle. But where that had taken place they weren't sure, for the only one they knew of in recent times had occured far south of them near Neverwinter. It was a complete mystery how the dwarf had come to be here in the far north.

"Hopefully when he wakes he can shed some light on the subject," Brago mused aloud.

"I am eager to find out how he got all the way up here, if of course you are right about him having been involved in that nasty business to the south," Elma replied.

"Well, seeing as how the damage had to have been caused by some big battle, and the only one I can remember hearing about was way down south near Neverwinter, it makes sense," Brago shrugged.

"If indeed he was a part of those happenings, then I am sure his story would make for a most wonderful tale dear," Elma smiled at him. Her husband was a bard who was always looking for the next great story. They had in fact been debating whether or not to travel to Neverwinter for the sole purpose of documenting the troubles that had recently plagued the region.

"Yes, my thoughts exactly," Brago nodded in excited agreement. "This dwarf could provide me with an exclusive account of the doings and happenings of that battle near Neverwinter. It is the kind of tale that can make me famous."

"Just remember that he has suffered some serious injuries," Elma cautioned her husband. "Not only that but most dwarves are private people and not given to talking about their own deeds no matter how great they are. I don't want you to be upsetting him none."

"Not to worry dear, I'll be careful," Brago smiled at her before turning his attention back to the poem he was trying to write. The idea for it had come out of the mutterings of the dwarf that he had overheard. The dwarf had muttered a few names such as Ashara and Neeshka, both in tones that implied loss, and he was curious about who those people might be. The dwarf had also muttered such things as "damned warlock" and "stuck up brat" and "idiotic gnome", very cryptic words to say the least. Until the dwarf regained consciousness he would be left to imagining the possibilities, thus the need to put some of it into words before he forgot about it.

"Well I'm going to get some shut eye," Elma said as she spread a blanket on top of her bedroll. "Are you sure those warning spells are set correctly? I don't like to be surprised out of my sleep by any orcs or trolls prowling about."

"Yes, quite sure," Brago nodded firmly. "I just hope the dwarf don't make too much noise in his sleep, for sound carries quite a distance out here." He adjusted the blanket around his shoulders a little more, before settling down again. Even in the summertime the nights got quite chilly here in the frozen north. "It's too bad that we can't make a fire to help keep him warm, but that would be the surest way of attracting unwanted attention."

"We've done the best we can dear," Elma told him. "He's tucked snugly into your bedroll and has two of our thickest blankets on top of him. I dare say he's warm enough."

"True, true," Brago nodded. "Well good night dear, I'll wake you in a few hours for your watch." He watched as Elma nodded and then crawled inside her bedroll and pulled the heavy blanket over her. He noticed that she had placed her short swords right next to her head, within easy reach of her hands. Always prepared for troubled, that was his Elma. It was a good thing too, because sometimes he himself got distracted by an unusual plant or got lost in some tale he was writing. If not for Elma, he would probably have met a nasty end long before now. Of course as a bard he knew magic and had several wands and scrolls he kept handy just in case. However, those things took time to use and the nasties that plagued the land hereabouts didn't always give fair warning of their impending attack. HIs attention was drawn back to the dwarf as the poor man tossed about, muttering once again.

_Damned spoiled, crazy, egotistical brat of a sorceress, going over to the other side, nose in the air, convinced she knew what she was doing. He looked over to see an expression of almost maniacal glee cross Sand's face. Hah! The wizard would take care of the foolish, traitor girl. He had to admit, Qara's downfall had been long in coming. Too bad Ashara had to go and let that no-good, sorry excuse for a human ranger Bishop walk away. He would have loved teaching the cur the meaning of loyalty and honor under the loving strokes of his axe. He supposed that the Knight-Captain felt a little sorry for the man, or maybe she just wanted him to live with the knowledge of what he had thrown away. Oh well, best to push such thoughts aside for there was still that ugly, undead thorn in the side of everyone by the name of Garius to deal with. For what he did to the tiefling, Khelgar swore he would pay and pay dearly. As much of a pain in the ass Neeshka was, he had actually become friends with her, surprisingly, and no one treated any of Khelgar Ironfist's friends that way and got away with it. He would take great pleasure in cutting Garius down to size..._

_That was a tough fight, but at least they managed to come out of it alive he thought as he leaned on his axe to catch his breath. The only thing left was to prepare for the King of Shadows and deal with the monster once and for all. Looking at the faces of his companions he saw reflected in them the same weariness as he himself was feeling. He then noticed Ashara staring at a crumpled, robed figure lying on the ground. Must be that brat Qara, he thought. Looks like Sand did a real number on her, but that was just what she deserved to get for turning traitor. He saw sorrow and disappointment on Ashara's face and shook his head. Sometimes the lass was too soft hearted for her own good, always wanting to give others more chances than they rightly deserved. Maybe if she wasn't, she would have seen the ranger for what he was long before this point and told him to bugger off. Well, if he survived this final battle, he would just go and find whatever small, dark hole the rat had crawled into and show him the error of his ways. The ranger deserved no less than a sound beating for hurting Ashara the way he had and the dwarf felt he had the right and the responsibility to be the one to administer it. Then after beating the crap out of Bishop, he would drag his sorry arse back to Crossroad Keep to face justice for his crimes. Ah well, best to push such thoughts aside and focus on not getting killed..._

_By the hells! We didn't survive that last battle just to get crushed by fallen masonry, he thought. He hurried down the long hall behind Ashara and Casavir, the druid Elanee and the wizard Sand following hot on his heels. Hearing a screeching noise he stopped and looked back to see the Construct collapsing beneath a heavy load of masonry. "Grobnar no!" he shouted as the foolish gnome attempted to save the monstrous machine. In horror, he watched as both the construct and the gnome vanished beneath a pile of rubble. Damn, first Neeshka and now that idiot gnome, he growled to himself. Feeling hands tugging at him, he turned and saw Elanee pulling him towards a doorway through which the others had fled. Hurrying after her, he came to a stop in the middle of an old laboratory, wondering what in the hells they were going to do now. They didn't have much time left and just as he was about to give up and resign himself to the fact of dying in these ruins, he heard Sand give an excited cry. Looking where the moon elf was pointing, he saw another Song Portal standing there, but the energy seemed to be fluctuating and it looked to be a sickly red color. Hearing Ashara agree with Sand that they had no choice but to use it, he took a deep breath and prepared to follow her through. It was insanity of the greatest magnitude to use something so unstable, but if they stayed they were dead anyway. So he motioned to the others to go through first and then with a final look back towards where their fallen friends lay, he leapt through..._

"Damn it all to the hells, this hurts!" he cried out as he awoke from the nightmare.

"Please, keep your voice down or you'll attract the wrong kind of attention," Brago snapped at the dwarf. "This isn't exactly the safest place on Faerun you know."

Khelgar turned his head towards the voice and glared at the halfling man whose voice it was. "Who in the hells are you and where am I?" he growled fiercely.

"My name is Brago Longbank, bard and explorer extroadinaire," the halfling answered with a smile. "You my good dwarf just happen to be in the frozen north, the savage frontier as most call it, just a couple days journey north of Everlund."

Khelgar frowned as he called to mind the tales he had heard about the numerous orcs, trolls, bugbears and other such irksome and troublesome creatures that were said to exist in great numbers in this area. He listened carefully and peered around cautiously at his surroundings as he slowly sat up. As he did, a sharp, searing pain lanced through his head, causing him to groan and close his eyes. Of all his luck, he was stuck in the middle of nowhere, with goblins and other ugly beasties probably lurking about, suffering from a splitting headache and his only companion was a bard. Even though he was a halfling and not a gnome, he was still a bard. Fate had a sick sense of humor to do this to him.

Brago saw the furtive looks and hastened to reassure the dwarf. "I have spelled the area so we'll have warning if anything does approach. Still, I don't think you are in any shape right now to take on a horde of goblins let alone anything bigger, so just don't talk too loud." He saw the dwarf glance askance at him before once more holding his head in his hands. "You have a nasty bump on your head, although I don't know exactly how you got it, and that's why your head probably feels like a dozen dwarves are mining it out right about now. As a matter of fact, I'm not entirely too sure how you ended up here, but I can tell you've been in some kind of big fight." He injected a slight tone of curiosity into his voice, remembering what Elma had said about dwarves liking their privacy. He hoped it would be enough to convince the dwarf in front of him to speak about what happened.

"Yeah, I was involved in a big fight, and it was a brutul one to be sure," Khelgar sighed. "Name's Khelgar Ironfist, of the clan Ironfist, lately of Crossroad Keep. I got here by jumping through a collapsing portal. Got thrown rather violently out the other side too. Not like I had much choice in the matter, figured I was dead either way."

"I know of Crossroad Keep, it was the talk of many a traveller at local inns in these parts," Brago nodded enthusiastically. "Stories were that some commoner rose through the ranks of the Neverwinter army and became Captain of the place. Made it into a magnificent fortress I heard tell. Also heard that there was some kind of trouble down there and that was why the place was built. If you were there, then perhaps you can tell me what the real story is?"

"Ashara may have been born a commoner, but she was the most noble woman you'd have ever wanted to know," Khelgar said fondly as he thought about the woman who had been his constant companion for the past year. "In exchange for something to eat and drink, I'll tell you a little about her, the battles and the King of Shadows."

Brago grabbed his pack and dug through it until he had retrieved several pieces of dried meat, a couple of blocks of cheese and a small loaf of bread. "Don't have much except these dried rations and some cold water for you. But out here, it's not a good idea to have a fire at night."

Khelgar shrugged as he took the offered food, "Well, in my travels I've gotten used to such discomforts. It just makes it that much more pleasant to be back in civilization and snugged down comfortable at a good inn or tavern."

"I know what you mean, for I spend a great deal of time travelling the wilder places around here," Brago nodded. "Great tales are not made inside city walls, but out in the wide world, even though you often run into some interesting characters in a tavern or bar in many cities." He waited while the dwarf had something to eat and drink before getting out his notebook, quill and ink in preparation for writing down whatever Khelgar chose to share with him of his recent adventures.

Khelgar paused for a moment to gather his thoughts before beginning to speak about his companions and the battles they had fought. "I just want to warn you that I don't like it when bards blow things out of proportion just for the sake of making a tale more interesting to others. I don't care if you write down what I say, but you best not be embellishing it none. Besides, I think in this case the truth of the events are more fantastic and more thrilling than anything any bard could ever hope to imagine."

Brago nodded at him, even though inside he was skeptical, and began writing notes as the dwarf spoke. However, as the story began to unfold he realized that the dwarf was right! The truth was already beyond fantastical and certainly didn't need embellishment. He found himself captivated at hearing about the Knight-Captain and her struggles against overwhelming odds. He was enthralled at the epic scope and majesty of the tale, the brave sacrifices made, and the love that was won and lost. It was long past the time for Elma to take her watch before the dwarf stopped speaking, even though he had not gotten to the final battle he had hinted about.

"I can see that you're getting tired, so I think you should lie back down and get some more sleep," Brago told him. "Besides, it's past time for Elma to take her watch and I need to get some rest too. I must say that what you have told me so far is already more than enough for several tales, but I still want to hear about how it all ended." Reaching out, he shook his wife awake and saw her sit up in surprise and stare at the dwarf.

"Well met good dwarf, I am Elma Longback," she introduced herself.

"I am Khelgar Ironfist," the dwarf nodded in return. "I was just telling your husband here about my recent adventures."

"Brago I told you not to hound him about his business," Elma protested, a disapproving frown on her face.

"No, no, tis okay, I didn't mind sharing the story," Khelgar waived her off. "I got rather used to pesky bards in my adventures and it actually felt good to be talkin' about it."

Elma gave Brago a few more dark looks and muttered warnings as they switched places before settling down opposite Khelgar. "Why don't you lie down and get some more rest?" she softly suggested to him.

"Nah, I don't think I'd be able to sleep right now," Khelgar brushed aside her concern. "Besides, I'd probably end up dreaming about what happened and not getting any sleep anyway."

"If you want to talk some more, I wouldn't mind the company," Elma chuckled quietly. "Gets a little lonely on watch and it's nice to have someone to share it with."

"Yeah, I know what ya mean," Khelgar nodded. "Many's the time I got stuck on watch by myself, although more recently I'd be on watch with someone. The only one of my companions I couldn't really stand to be on watch with was Grobnar. He was a gnome and a bard, same as your husband, but lacking the common sense Brago has. That idiot was always getting himself into trouble, more from carelessness than anything else. Ya see, Grobnar had an underdeveloped sense of self preservation and would cheerily rush into the most dangerous of places or battles without a thought for his own hide. Now I'm all for a good fight, but some caution must be excercised when you're facing a bunch of nasties."

"He sounds like the kind of friend who could lighten up even the darkest of places," Elma smiled. Her smile faded as she saw sorrow cloud Khelgar's face.

"Yeah, he was, and a right nuisance too," Khelgar sighed. "If he was on watch with you he never stopped chattering, but I think now that I'd gladly put up with his inane talk if only he were alive and well. But, he foolishly tried to save his pet construct when the ruins were collapsing and ended up buried in the rubble. Stupid, stupid gnome," he finished with a growl of anger.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Elma said quietly. "You know, if you'd rather not talk about them, I'd understand. I know what it's like to lose companions. Brago and I have been exploring the lands hereabouts for nigh on ten years and we've had several companions with us in that time. Some of them died at the hands of orcs, trolls and other such creatures. Others simply parted ways with us to seek their fortune in less hostile areas. However, we are both determined to make names for ourselves and this is the only area that has not been extensively explored or mapped."

"If I were to guess by your tone and the way you are dressed and those swords of yours, I'd say you are what's known as a Strongheart Halfing, and a pretty decent fighter to boot," Khelgar said speculatively.

"Yes I am, and as you've no doubt concluded Brago is a Lightfoot Halfling," Elma chuckled. "I know that you are a Shield Dwarf, and if ever a race of dwarves were friendly to halflings, it is them. Perhaps once you've recovered well enough you would consider joining us as we explore this area some more," she suggested.

"A year ago I might very well have jumped at the chance, but I have changed a great deal since then," Khelgar shook his head. "I think I have had enough of adventure to last me for a while, and anyway I have to find out what happened to the others that survived. They are not here with me, so that means they must have ended up somewhere else. At least, I hope they did," he muttered gloomily.

"Why do you say that?" the halfling woman was curious as to the doubt evident in the dwarf's voice. "I mean, if you lived to tell the tale then surely the others did as well."

"Maybe, maybe not," Khelgar shrugged. "I'm a dwarf and we're hard to kill. The same can't be said for some of my other companions. I was spit out of some portal near here with enough force to knock me out cold for who knows how long before I managed to stagger out to where you two found me. I have to acknowledge the fact that the others might not have been so lucky. Of course, I also have no clue where they might be, for no one with me had any idea where we'd end up, not even Sand."

"Perhaps, but I wouldn't accept such a thing as being true without strong evidence to back it up," Elma said firmly. "You'll just have to seek the truth once you're well enough to travel. In the meantime, why don't you tell me about the rest of your friends. It might help you to talk about them. Also, I have travelled around these parts for some time, but I don't recall seeing anything that looked like a portal."

"Well, these looked like upside down horseshoes and were called Song Portals by the ancient Illefarn, the ones who built them. What little we did know was that they could be found anywhere that old empire had been, and that they used music to travel," Khelgar told her and saw her frown in concentration.

"Well, I think I would have remembered seeing something like what you've described, but I can't recall anything," Elma shrugged. "But of Illefarn I do have some knowledge. I do know that the empire stretched all the way from the Sword Coast to the Desert of Anauroch, and from as far north as the Lurkwood to as far south as Cormyr. That leaves a lot of places they could have ended up in. You'd definately have to find someone to help give you an idea of where to start looking. I know mages can do divination and stuff like that, but don't know of any around these parts with the required skills to do it."

"Well, even if it takes me the rest of my life, I will look for them," Khelgar said with determination. "They would do the same for me if our places were reversed, and it might not be so difficult finding a trail to follow. They are the kind of people that tend to stick out in a crowd, so if they are alive then someone will have seen them."

"I would love to hear more about these friends of yours, that is if you're not too tired," Elma told him.

"Alright," Khelgar nodded. "Besides the gnome, there was this tiefling by the name of Neeshka." He saw Elma's eyebrows arch in surprise and chuckled. "I know, it's rare to see their kind and even more rare to count one as a friend, but that was exactly what Neeshka was. She was a thief and a pain in the ass, but I could count on her to have my back in a fight. She liked to play practical jokes on people, and no one was spared, even the uptight paladin Casavir. I think she plagued him more than anyone simply because he was always forgiving her for her tricks. Of course, he began to loosen up a little there towards the end, mostly because of Ashara. Unfortunately, little Neeshka didn't make it, the King of Shadows got her but good. I hope someday to be able to return to the mere and retrieve her body and that of the others. They all deserve a proper buriel, although maybe Nevalle will get to them first."

"I see in his notes here that Ashara was the Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep?" Elma queried, squinting at the spidery scratchings of her husband. "If I'm reading this right, it says that she was a commoner and that she was in love with a noble by the name of Nevalle. The same one as you just mentioned?" Seeing him nod she couldn't quite hide her surprise. "It's been my experience that nobles wouldn't even consider stooping so low as to call a low born peasant friend, let alone have an intimate relationship with one."

"Yeah, but Ashara was different and they met under most unusual circumstances," Khelgar chuckled. "Suffice it to say that she was his match in more ways than one and he fell hard for her charms. I think the poor man didn't know how hard he had fallen for her until she seduced him and after that he was a goner." Seeing the curiosity in Elma's eyes, he launched into a brief tale of how the two had met and how they had ended up together. "So you see, in the end, she was of equal rank with him despite having been born a commoner. Lord Nasher himself had a similar rise to power although most of my clan don't think much of him. I can't say I like him all that much either and same goes for most other nobles of that city. However, Nevalle is different from most nobles you might meet. He judges people by their actions more than by their upbringing and he considered Ashara to be the best example of true nobility. After all, she was willing to risk her life to save thousands of innocent people from a fate worse than death. I don't know of too many so callled nobles who'd be willing to to something like that."

"What about the others with you that Brago mentions, like Sand?" Elma asked.

"Ah, now that moon elf was someone who could get ya all twisted into knots with mere words," Khelgar laughed. "Then again, he was a wizard and had a great deal of book smarts. Also had a rather caustic wit and a tongue as sharp as his pointy ears. Many was the time that those of us on the receiving end wished dearly to cut it out, but not Ashara. For all that she was what he called a sword swinging head basher, she had a good deal of gray matter between her ears. She enjoyed their verbal duels almost as much as she enjoyed chopping up beasties with me."

Elma found herself smiling at his words and tried picturing Ashara and Sand bantering with each other. But the dwarf was rambling on and she lost her concentration.

"Then of course there was the tree-hugger Elanee," Khelgar continued. "Bit of a stick in the mud that one, so calm all the time that she made you just feel like shaking her out of it. But, loyal to a fault and not afraid to take on the most daunting of tasks. Of course, I've already mentioned Casavir, but I just have to add that a paladin of Tyr is good to have around if ya need healing or are facing a bunch of undead, but not good at parties if you know what I mean."

Elma laughed at that, "I can imagine. I think sobriety is considered a virtue by paladins, although I haven't met enough of them to be positivie of that."

"Ain't that the truth," Khelgar chuckled. "Still, he was loyal to a fault and if he did survive, I'd bet my last copper that he is looking for Ashara and the rest of us at this very moment."

"Well, as I said before, if you lived then there's no reason to think the others aren't alive as well," Elma reiterated. "From what you've told me so far, they sound like a pretty decent and good bunch of people to have around you. I also think that looking for them would be a great adventure in itself. Your injuries are going to keep you from being able to fight too well for some time. If it's alright with you, I would very much like to accompany you on your journey to find out what happened to them."

"Ah, well I wouldn't want to take you and Brago away from such important work as what you're doing around these parts," Khelgar attempted to brush aside her offer, even though the idea of company sounded pretty good to him.

"Well, the savage frontier will still be here after all is said and done, and not too many adventurers are crazy enough to attempt to explore it," Elma chuckled. "Both Brago and I are wanderers at heart and don't particularly care where we go as long as there is the opportunity to make money or become famous doing so."

"Well, if it's okay with him, then it's okay with me," Khelgar agreed. "It's not healthy to wander these parts alone, I know that. Perhaps in Everlund I might even hear news about my friends that could point me in the right direction."

"Oh that's quite possible yes, for many adventurers, rangers, and merchants travel to and from the place," Elma nodded. "One of the best places to go is Danivarr's House, the oldest and largest inn in the city. Another is The Old Sword Sheathed, a tavern where the ale always flows and the fun never ends."

"Heh, heh, sounds like my kind of place," Khelgar chuckled and then suddenly yawned widely.

"Hmph, I think we've talked enough for one night," Elma said firmly. "If we're going to be travelling together then we'll have plenty of opportunity to talk about your other friends and the rest of your adventures. The quickest way to heal is to get plenty of sleep so I think you should at least attempt to get some."

"I think I will," Khelgar nodded as he made himself comfortable in the bedroll. "I just want to say thanks for helping me out here. I know something about this area and I know that I wouldn't want to be here by myself. I consider myself a lucky dwarf to have been found by you two and not a band of trolls."

"It may be luck, but perhaps it is part of a greater plan," Elma agreed. "Maybe we'll find out one way or the other some day, but for now get some rest and we'll discuss it in the morning." She watched as the dwarf closed his eyes and gradually fell into a deep sleep. Turning her attention to her husband's notes, she tried picturing the people mentioned. Some of what was written seemed almost too wild to be true and she wondered how much Brago had embellished the story. After a couple of hours she heard him stir and shortly afterwards he came to sit with her.

"I see you've been reading my notes," Brago said. "The dwarf woke up about an hour after you fell asleep and couldn't go back to sleep himself, so he regaled me with some tales of his more recent adventures and the people he travelled with."

"Brago, I know you have a tendancy to embellish upon stories you've heard, but I don't think it would make Khelgar happy," Elma warned him.

"Khelgar did indeed warn me of just that, and I tell you truthfully that what you see written there is exactly what he told me, no fluff," Brago empahsized. "The truth of his tale is far more exotic than anything I've ever even dreamed of."

Elma stared hard at him and saw he was indeed telling the truth so she nodded acceptance. "He and I talked a bit before he was tired enough to sleep again. I told him that if he wanted company on his travels that we would be happy to join him and he said okay."

"Really?" Brago asked, excitement making his voice a little loud, earning him a hiss of caution from his wife. "That's wonderful," he said more softly. "From what I've heard about his companions, I would dearly love to meet them and record their stories as well. Just think, we could become famous doing this."

"I had the same thought," Elma smiled, happy that Brago liked the idea. "But more than that is the fact that Khelgar needs to discover the fate of his companions and he is in no condition to do so alone. He may not be in any such shape any time soon and will need help."

"That's true," Brago said. "Merely traveling to Neverwinter is dangerous and perhaps his search will take him into even more hostile areas. We certainly can't let him go alone."

"Then we are agreed," Elma nodded. "In the morning we will head towards Everlund. Once there, we'll be able to rest and supply ourselves with anything we might need. We might also be able to hear some news about the events to the south that can point us in the right direction. Then, once the dwarf is up to it, we can be off on what could be the greatest of adventures."

"Well, while we wait for our good friend Khelgar to awake, why don't you tell me everything you talked about so I can write it down," Brago said as he took his notebook from his wife and picked up his quill. Thus the few hours remaining until dawn passed quickly. Once Khelgar had woken up, they quickly packed up their things and then headed out towards Everlund. On the way, the dwarf told them more about his companions and his words convinced both Brago and Elma that they had made the right decision. So it was, in what seemed to be no time at all, and without any nasty encounters, that they reached Everlund where their adventure could truly begin.


	7. Chapter 6: Everlund

Everlund

"The gods be damned woman, I ain't some milksop human or mewling infant that needs to be pampered and mollycoddled," Khelgar yelled, glaring at the halfling standing at the foot of his bed.

"No, what you are is a stubborn, thick-headed dwarf who refuses to admit when he's seriously hurt," Elma snapped in return. "That battle with those bugbears when we were a day out from Everlund reopened your old wounds and left you with a few new ones."

"Well I feel well enough to get out of bed now so stop acting like I'm dying or something," Khelgar retorted. He glanced sideways at Brago who was standing at the ready, a wand of paralyzation in his hands. "Come on, talk some sense into your wife."

Brago busted out laughing, "I've been married to her for ten years and I've learned that she really does know what is best for me. So, you're on your own buddy."

"Khelgar, you were unconscious when we brought you here," Elma said in her firmest tone. "You said that it might have been two days or more that you were wandering around hurt in those woods before we found you. You had a severe head injury as well as some internal injuries beyond our abilities to treat. Then those wounds were aggravated by that battle we fought and it left you unable to move on your own. We had to fix up a travois and pull you here to the city which delayed our arrival by a full day. When the healer was brought, he did a great job of fixing you up, but he said you had to remain in bed for at least three days. It has only been two, so you have to stay there for one more day or you risk further damage."

"I'm not asking you to let me go wandering off into the wilds," Khelgar said in exasperation. "I just want to get out of this bed and go take a look around Everlund, maybe check out some of the taverns and toss a few beers down. Where's the harm in that, eh?"

"What if someone wants to start a fight with you Khelgar?" Elma asked. "From what you've told us, you're not exactly the type to back down from a confrontation. You'll end up fighting and reinjuring yourself and that would cause even further delay."

"Come on, now you're just talking nonsense," Khelgar snorted. "I've learned how to control myself in the time that I travelled with Ashara and the others. Yes I used to be the first to settle differences with my fist, but not anymore. I just want to get out of this bed. I promise not to get into any fights."

"Listen Elma, I know a couple of spells that I could use to make sure he doesn't get into a fight with anybody," Brago suddenly spoke up. When his wife fixed her angry glare on him, he swallowed hard but pushed forward anyway. "With us keeping an eye on him I'm sure we can keep him from aggravating his injuries again."

Elma glared at both of them while she considered the situation. She wasn't an unreasonable woman by any means, but she did hate to see hard work go to waste. It had cost quite a bit for the healer's services because of the extent of the dwarf's injuries. It had taken the healer over four hours to finish, but he had done a fantastic job and so it was worth every penny. But the healer had been adamant about Khelgar staying in bed for three days and she couldn't just ignore the man's warning and let the dwarf do as he pleased.

"Okay, here's the deal," Elma finally spoke up. "I will go get the healer and bring him here to check you out. If he says that it is okay, then you can get out of bed and we can go check out Everlund. You will have to promise to stay out of trouble though and if you don't I will make you wish you had. Understood?" Seeing Khelgar smile and nod she shook her head and left the room.

"Wow, I've never been able to get that woman to change her mind," Brago exclaimed with a grin.

"That's cause you're married to the wench," Khelgar chuckled. "Even amongst the dwarves, most husbands don't dare cross their wives. They have a way of making you sorry for it."

"You know, the reason Elma's so hard on you is because she likes you and only wants what's best for you," Brago told him. "I've never really seen her take to anyone so quickly before."

"Well, she's gotta learn to relax a little and have fun," Khelgar replied. Eyeing the wand in the halfling man's hand he had to ask, "Were you really gonna use that on me?"

"Yeah," Brago nodded and smiled. "Like you said, you don't cross the little woman and expect to get away with it. However, I do sympathize with your situation. I never liked it when Elma would keep me in bed longer than I felt necessary."

They talked about more of his adventures while waiting for Elma to return with the healer. It was a good half hour before she did and she looked to still be pretty ticked off with Khelgar. However, after checking the dwarf out, the healer said with some surprise that the dwarf was well enough to get out of bed, but did caution him not to overdo it. Elma sighed and showed the healer out, paying him for his services as she did.

"Well, apparently you heal better than most," Elma grumbled as she turned back towards them. She saw that Khelgar had wasted no time in getting up and walking around the room, testing his legs and his strength. "Just remember, if you do anything to reinjure yourself, then I will have Brago knock you out and you will find yourself confined to your bed until I say otherwise."

"Yes mommy," Khelgar grinned and saw her scowl in irritation before storming out of the room. "He, he, he, just can't take a joke," he laughed.

"Here, I got you these to wear," Brago handed him a new pair of trousers and shirt and saw the dwarf look at him in surprise. "Everlund is home to many races and is also a major commerce center so it's easy to find things. Seeing as there is not much size difference amongst dwarves, I had no problem finding clothes to fit you."

"Well, they are a little loose in the waist," Khelgar said as he pulled on the trousers. "That's probably because I've lost a bit of weight in the past few weeks. Not been getting my six meals a day." He dug through his pack and found one of his most prized possesions, the Belt of Ironfist. As he stood there holding it in his hands, he couldn't keep from thinking about how Ashara had helped him get it back from the fire giants.

"What's wrong Khelgar?" Brago asked as he saw the dwarf become quiet all of a sudden. Walking over, he looked curiously at the magnificent belt in the dwarf's hands. "That's the most beautiful belt I've ever seen. Where'd you get it?"

"Ah lad, that's a long tale all by itself," Khelgar chuckled. "Right now, I just want to get out of this room for a while before I go stark raving mad." He replaced the belt carefully in his pack and dug out an old worn belt. Cinching up his pants, he pulled the new shirt over his head, tying the laces in front. Going to the bed, he sat down and put on his boots and then went to the dresser to wash his face. "Well, I guess I'm presentable enough," he nodded at his reflection in the mirror. "If someone don't like it that's their problem."

"Everlund gets all kinds of travellers and most of them aren't exactly looking their best," Brago laughed as he headed out the door and down the stairs, Khelgar right behind him. "I doubt you'll get a second look."

"Well now, depends on who's giving the second look," Khelgar said as eyed a pretty girl who passed them on the stairs. "Wouldn't mind if some comely wench wanted to chat me up a bit."

"I see that you're ready to hit the streets," Elma came over to them as they entered the foyer.

Khelgar was looking around at the place, noticing how many halflings and woodsy type people were hanging about. The inn itself was quite comfortable looking and quite clean as well. He didn't know much about Everlund but he liked what he had seen so far.

"This is The Battered Hat," Brago told him. "Elma and I always stay here when we're in the area because it is owned and run by halflings. They also happen to be the most welcoming of all the innkeepers in Everlund. Halflings are friendly and easy going by nature so they get along with most everyone."

"Well, I'd like to find a good tavern and have me an ale or two," Khelgar told them. "I can't remember the last time I just sat down and enjoyed myself without worrying about having to go off and fight some nasties."

"Well I know just the place, I go there every time I'm in town," Brago said cheerfully. "The Old Sword Sheathed is the place to go for good food, good drink, and even better company. There's all kinds of entertainment there, from dice games to story telling. They also serve some of the best Butternut Beer in the North."

"Brago is often asked to perform when he goes there," Elma said with evident pride. "Just remember, you promised to play here as well don't forget that." Seeing Khelgar give her a questioning look she explained. "Part of the fee to stay here is for Brago to entertain the guests at least one night while he is here."

"Hunh, sounds like you're pretty popular in these parts," Khelgar said, impressed despite himself. "Grobnar was a better composer of tales than a singer and wasn't often asked to play. Wouldn't mind hearing a decent bard for a change. Still, the little gnome was one of the bravest and truest companions one could have, even if he did sometimes drive you nuts with his incessant and inane chatter." Shaking his head sadly, he left the inn flanked on either side by his two halfling companions.

As it was late afternoon, the streets were crowded with all kinds of people, carts and wagons. Khelgar observed that there was quite the mix of races. He saw wood and moon elves, halflings, gnomes, humans, and dwarves. Most were walking, some were riding, and others were dragging carts or leading ponies laden with goods. There was shouting, laughter and a general hubbub of conversation floating on the air. Horses whinnied and stamped, donkeys brayed, goats were bleating and numerous dogs were barking. All in all, quite the spectacle and something that Khelgar had never experienced before.

"You're looking a little perturbed Khelgar, what's wrong?" Brago asked cheerily.

"Nothing's wrong, I just ain't never been to a place like this," Khelgar shook his head in bemusement. "I thought Neverwinter was crowded and noisy, but this place makes that city seem like an oasis of peace and quiet."

"You mean you've never been to a frontier trade center?" Elma asked in surprise.

"I've heard about them but never seen one," the dwarf answered. "I really didn't get to see much of the world after I left my clan cause I got caught up in all those troubles there in Neverwinter. Needless to say, that city was pretty organized compared to this, even though it's three times bigger."

"Well, people come and go from Everlund on a regular basis," Brago told him. "Most of those you see are only here during the daytime. All these vendors come into the city with their goods and leave once they've sold all their goods or when night falls. They live in the countryside on farms or in small hamlets. Once night comes, most go home but some stay on eating and drinking in one of the many taverns here. Everlund is the home base for several caravan masters, rangers, mercenaries and harpers. There is of course the army barracks that houses about two thousand troops, but most of them are busy patrolling for and stopping the various nasty hordes that come around, goblins, bugbears and the like."

"I never saw any troops coming here," Khelgar grumbled, thinking that they could have used their help with that group of bugbears.

"Well, we did come upon a troop about half a day out, you just happened to be unconscious at the time," Elma told him. "They went back to check the area to make sure that all of those bugbears were gone."

They continued on throught the crowded streets, weaving their way through until finally they came to a stop outside The Old Sword. Khelgar took in the ramshackle condition, the faded paint and the sagging porch. He thought it looked more like a dive than a decent place but decided to trust the halflings that this was the place to go. Opening the door, they stopped just inside to let their eyes adjust to the dim interior. There was music, laughter and the smell of delicious food wafting on the air. Khelgar felt immediately at home and so was perfectly happy to let Brago lead him to a table near a slightly raised platform. There was a three man band playing on it surrounded by an appreciative audience. Some nearby recognized Brago and Elma and came over to say hello and chat for a while. Khelgar stayed silent, only speaking to the pretty barmaid when she came to get their drink order.

"My friends here tell me this place has the best butternut beer so I guess I'll have that to start," he said jovially to the lass.

"Would you like a dinner menu?" the barmaid asked and when he nodded, pulled a small placquard out of her pocket.

Khelgar perused the menu while his companions placed their drink order and saw that there appeared to be quite a variety of game available, as well as bread and even dessert. "Well, this place might not look like much on the outside, but it offers a hell of a lot more than any place I've ever been, and that includes The Sunken Flagon in Neverwinter."

"Eh, I know that place, stopped in there once years ago when I was passing through," Brago spoke up. "The man who owned it wasn't exactly the most sober of people and quite a few undesirables called the place home, if you know what I mean."

"Well it's pretty much the same now as it was then, only difference being is that I know the owner pretty well," Khelgar nodded. "He's a good honest man, even if he does like his drink, something that we have in common by the way. Me and Ashara stayed there while in Neverwinter, along with all the rest of our friends."

"I heard that it's gained some fame because of you guys and now it's almost like a tourist attraction or something," Elma told him. "Everyone has heard the story by now of how a commoner came along and pretty much liberated the city from the grip of criminals, cutthroats, and thieves."

"No bard worth his salt would pass up the opportunity to visit the Flagon now when he visits that city," Brago laughed. "I imagine that there's all kinds of stories to be heard and recorded there."

When the barmaid returned with their drinks, Khelgar ordered the venison, and Elma and Brago ordered the rabbit. Their dinners came with a big basket of freshly baked rolls with heaps of butter which they ate while waiting for their food. Their talk centered around different places they'd visited and unusual people or creatures they'd met. When the main courses arrived, they ate in silence, listening to the bard who had now taken the stage while the band took a break. They had just finished eating when the bartender came to their table.

"Hey, hey Brago, glad to see ya back in my humble establishment," he said, clapping the halfling on the back.

"Hello Portus, how's business these days?" Brago asked.

"Can't ya tell? It's booming I tell ya, absolutely booming," Portus laughed loudly. "Then again, it's always like this. You gonna entertain us tonight? The patrons really enjoy it when you do."

"Sure, I'd be glad to sing a tale or two," Brago said with a smile. "Just let me digest my dinner and think of something suitable and I'll be good to go."

"Excellent, excellent, can't wait to hear you play," Portus nodded and then hurried back to the bar to help his man serve the numerous customers there.

Elma and Khelgar talked quietly together while Brago pulled out his journal and began flipping through it. Khelgar had given him plenty of new ideas, he had already composed a couple of tales, and he wanted to pick one of them and show the dwarf that he was a man of his word. Not only that, he was positive that no other bard could tell such a tale, not unless they had first encountered the dwarf or one of the companions and heard their stories. He would regale the clientele with something they had never heard before, while at the same time giving them important information on the happenings to the south. He knew that the recent events in Neverwinter had been the subject of many conversations and much specualtion. His fame would be increased because he would be the first to bring to life those events.

When Brago felt he was ready, he picked up his lute and climbed onto the platform. As soon as the patrons saw him up there, they began to enthusiastically clap and cheer. They all knew him and knew his talent and so were eager to hear him play. As he tuned his lute, the patrons gradually grew quiet, the anticipation in the room palpable. Brago chose the song he wrote about Ashara, describing her in great detail and touching upon some of the things she had accomplished while in Neverwinter.

Khelgar was leaning back in his chair, drinking his third beer, when Brago began to play. He soon realized that the bard was singing about Ashara and he snapped to attention. As he listened, he could tell that the halfling had been true to his word not to embellish, but he still managed to find a way to make Ashara seem larger than life. One could almost picture the woman in their mind as Brago sang, and Khelgar unexpectedly felt tears come to his eyes. Ashara had been a dear friend, and the song reminded him of her loss. When Brago finally finished there was absolute silence in the place, and looking around, the dwarf saw that he wasn't the only one who had been moved by the tale. Suddenly, the silence was broken as first one, then another and finally all of the patrons began to clap and cheer.

"Are you okay Khelgar?" Elma asked softly. She had seen the tears the dwarf refused to shed and hoped he wasn't offended or hurt by the tale.

"Yeah, I'll be okay," Khelgar said quietly. "It's just his song reminded me of what was lost and may not be found, and therein lies the tragedy. Ashara was the most amazing human woman I had ever met. She totally changed my view of what humans were like as a race. I just hope that she did survive, for the world could certainly use someone like her."

Elma reached out and gripped the dwarf's arm causing him to look her in the eyes. "I told you before and I'll say it again," she said firmly. "You survived and there is no reason to believe that the others didn't. Don't give up on her before you've even begun. She is alive and you will find her, we will find her, count on it."

Khelgar nodded and then laughed, "Must be the beer makin' me all maudlin. I know she's alive and we will find her. I have to say that I'm glad I'm not alone in this." He leaned back in his chair once more as Brago began another, lighter tale about a gnome and his penchant for getting into messes that he had a hard time getting out of. The dwarf realized that Grobnar was the inspiration for this humerous tale and found himself laughing heartily at it. He wasn't the only one who found it funny, and the mood in the tavern was lifted as the patrons began laughing and clapping to the music.

Brago finished his tale and waived off the cries of the patrons to hear more. "At the moment, I have no other songs prepared, and I am still a little weary from my trip here to this fine city. However, I promise to return here once more before I leave and regale you with more tales." Climbing down off the platform, he nodded to the band taking his place and then went back to sit at his table. "Well, what did you think Khelgar? Pretty good for something I only came up with a couple of days ago, eh?" he asked the dwarf.

"It was indeed, but even better was the fact that you didn't embellish it, just like you promised," Khelgar nodded.

"I'm a man of my word," Brago smiled in return. "Still, you were right, the truth was far more exciting than any fiction I could come up with and the patrons were certainly appreciative of it."

"It is an impressive tale in and of itself dear, you did a wonderful job," Elma praised him and saw him flush a little. She chuckled, "Now there's no need to get embarassed, you're good at what you do. I know it, you know it, and most importantly the patrons here know it. Praise comes with the job when that job is well done."

Khelgar laughed as Brago turned even more red and finished off his beer. Signaling the barmaid, he ordered another round for them, and then settled back to watch as the halfling couple bantered back and forth. The way they were with each other made him kinda wish that he had someone special to share his life with. Then again, he was still quite young by dwarven standards so there was no hurry to find a wife and start a family. Brago and Elma just reinforced the fact that he was alone now, his former companions being out of his reach at the moment. Before joining Ashara he hadn't really minded being alone at times, the occasional wench to share his bed being enough for him. But he had gotten so used to having others around that he found he missed it, missed it terribly, including the inane chatter of the gnome. He found he was glad that the halflngs had offered to come with him, for he didn't think he would have the courage to travel that road alone anymore.

"Uhm, excuse me, but might I join you for a bit?" a quiet voice interrupted.

Looking up, Elma saw an elven man dressed in the garb of a ranger standing beside their table. "Not at all good sir, have a seat," she invited pointing at the empty chair opposite of her.

"How about you introduce yourself first stranger?" Khelgar asked suspiciously.

"Pardon my manners, my name is Elladar Faewing," the elf bowed before taking the seat. "I am a ranger who spends most of his time in the woods around these parts. I only come to Everlund when I need to get something I can't find out there. A couple of days ago, my skinning knife broke off at the hilt and so I had to come and purchase a new one. Now I am not sure if I believe in fate or anything like that, but I can tell you that it was strange that the knife broke in the first place, for I had only purchased it a year ago."

"Maybe it was poorly made," Brago suggested. "Something not made well doesn't last long in these parts, the climate not exactly conducive to it."

"I know that, and believe me when I say that if you live your life in the wilds you have to have the best equipment," Elladar replied. "I only buy the best available and the knife should have lasted for at least five years. I believe that something else is at work here, and the reason I believe that is because of your first tale, good bard. If not for having to replace the knife, I would not now be in this tavern warming my bones by the fire. I would not have heard your tale."

"What about his tale makes you think this, good ranger?" Elma asked, curious now as to what the man wanted to say.

"The woman you mentioned, this Ashara, reminds me very much of someone I met only a few days earlier," Elladar answered.

Khelgar suddenly sat up straight in his chair, his body tense and his gaze locked fiercely on the elf before him. "You've seen her? Where?" he demanded.

"I don't know for sure if it was her, the name given to me was different, but the description matches," the elf replied. "I was on the main road that runs towards Waterdeep, halfway between a couple of the small hamlets along it, when I came upon a wagon train stopped in the middle of the road. One of the wagons had lost a wheel and they were stopped while it was being fixed. The man leading them introduced himself as Cain Felgarn, purveyor of the finest gladiators on the face of Faerun. A nice eupehmism for slave trader."

"This woman was with him, this Cain fellow?" Brago asked.

"Sort of, she was in one of the cages and she was dressed in the garb of a gladiator," Elladar replied. "Cain was quite proud of his stock and thus wanted to show them off to me. He introduced her as Flame, saying she was one of the finest barbarian gladiators one would ever see. He told me he was on his way to Waterdeep, to the arena there, where everyone would be able to see just how good she was. I asked him where he got her from and he kind of avoided my question, merely stating that she was his property. As I looked into the cage, I have to admit I was impressed with the woman for she showed no fear or embarassment. In fact, she gave me a look that said plainly if I was looking for trouble she'd be more than happy to provide it."

"You said that this woman Flame matched Brago's description of Ashara?" Khelgar demanded.

"Yes, from the red hair, the green eyes, and even her height she was her twin," Elladar nodded. "Now I know I don't have to tell you the odds of there being two women matching that description on the face of Faerun. Few women, even amongst the barbarian tribes, are that tall, so I would guess that Flame and Ashara are the same woman."

Khelgar found he was speechless, completely stunned by what the elf had told him. He had wondered how he was going to ever find Ashara and now he knew. He knew the elf spoke the truth, that the odds of there being two women exactly alike being astronomical, especially given the height. "You have brought great news to us friend, for I knew Ashara well and have been searching for her. You said they were headed to Waterdeep?"

"That's what the man told me," Elladar nodded. "I feel I should caution you good dwarf. Gladiators, even as slaves, command a high price and a great deal of attention. You will have a hard time freeing her, even if you could convince this Cain of the truth. I strongly suggest that you proceed with great caution in this matter or the consequences could be deadly, if you catch my meaning," he finished.

"Ashara can provide the evidence herself, for she carries a birth mark on her left shoulder that is rather distinctive," Khelgar stated firmly. "Not only that, there's not just my word for it, but the word of Sir Nevalle, Lord Nasher, and several others in Neverwinter. Waterdeep is a member of the Lord's Alliance, same as Neverwinter, and they are on amicable terms. I have no doubt once they know of the situation that they will see to it that Ashara is freed."

"Khelgar, it would take a couple of weeks to reach Neverwinter even if we travel quickly, and then it would take almost another two weeks to reach Waterdeep," Elma spoke up. "Cain will reach that city long before that and have plenty of time to stage numerous fights in that arena. Gladiators die from wounds received in those fights all the time. I don't know if there will be enough time to go to Neverwinter first and inform them of the situation."

"Then we will have to see about getting a message to Neverwinter while we ourselves travel to Waterdeep," Brago countered quickly. "That way, those in charge can take action while we see what we can do on our end to rescue her."

"I will be happy to carry a message for you," Elladar spoke up. "If even half of your tale is true then I can do no less than that. A woman such as you describe does not deserve to be a slave."

"I have a little gold to pay you for your services," Khelgar reached into his pocket. "Ashara is worth far more than that to me."

Elladar waived the offer away, "No keep your gold, you might have need of it later. Like I said, I will do this of my own free will, for as you say, Ashara is worth it."

"Then I will be in your debt good elf," Khelgar said somberly. "You have my word as an Ironfist that if you ever need help or require refuge then you shall have it from me and my clan."

"Now that we have this matter settled we should see about making preparations," Elma said happily. "Elladar, our paths will lie together for some time and it is always helpful to travel in a group in these parts rather than alone. We would be happy to travel with you until such point where we must turn towards Waterdeep."

"That's a great idea Elma," Brago exclaimed. "Once we have gotten closer to Luskan territory, there will be few wandering tribes of monsters about and the roads will be more heavily patrolled. Elladar should be safe enough traveling on his own from that point."

"I agree, that sounds like a wise plan," Elladar smiled at them. "I may be comfortable out in the wilds and quite capable of taking care of myself, but it will certainly make for a quicker journey if I have someone to share the road and don't have to go out of my way to avoid hostile creatures. I think that time is of the essence right now and we must make all due haste. This Cain fellow will surely reach Waterdeep in just a few days, despite the slow progress of the wagons. We will have to travel swiftly and stop rarely if we are to gain time on him."

"Will you be well enough for that Khelgar?" Elma asked in concern, knowing that the dwarf wasn't back to full health.

"Ashara needs me and nothing will keep me from going to her as fast as my feet can travel," Khelgar said firmly. "I am well enough."

"Then let us get a good nights sleep and prepare for our journey tomorrow," Elma told them. "We will head out at the crack of dawn the following day and travel as quickly as we may."

"And woe betide any creature that tries to get in my way," Khelgar growled as he downed the last of his ale and stood up.

He, Elma and Brago headed back to the Battered Hat after arranging to meet Elladar outside of it in the morning. Going up the stairs they were silent, each lost in their own thoughts of what they had learned this night. Khelgar felt reenergized now that he had a definate direction to head in. There was even the possibility that he would meet the rest of his companions along the way. He knew without a doubt that Nevalle would move heaven and earth to save Ashara and that the man had the resources to effect a rescue should it come to that. Casavir, if he was still alive, would no doubt be a nearly unstoppable force once he knew where Ashara was. The man had been devoted to the Knight-Captain and her cause since day one and would stop at nothing to see that she was returned to her rightful place. Of course, Sand would know Waterdeep and her citizens best. If the wizard was alive and knew of the situation with Ashara, he too would not hesitate to do whatever was necessary. Yup, things were looking up.

Elma and Brago discussed what they would need for their journey as they prepared for bed. Both were quite familiar with the land hereabouts and knew that the journey would be fraught with dangers. Not only that, they knew of the reputations of some of these so called gladiator handlers, and Elladar was right, they were little more than slavers. Slavers were dangerous to tackle because they were unscrupulous in their methods of dealing with opposition. Careful planning would be required if they were to succeed in rescuing Ashara. There was much to be worried about, but also much to be thankful for. They would have plenty of help once Elladar reached Neverwinter and informed them of the situation. After that, things would be much easier. So they were both able to fall asleep fairly quickly and easily.


	8. Chapter 7: Reaffirmation Of Faith

Chapter 7: Reaffirmation of Faith

Sand sat easily in the saddle, spell book open in front of him, silently persuing the spells in it. They were now about a week outside of Battledale and another week should see them in Neverwinter territory near Crossroad Keep. The land was quiet, peaceful and nothing had threatened him and Casavir, not even brigands. It was so different travelling the land now as compared to a scant few weeks ago that he almost felt it happened in another lifetime. He found it rather pleasant, but was still not willing to let down his guard completely, hence the need to memorize a few spells just in case something should happen. Currently Casavir was walking just in front of him leading the pack horse. The paladin seemed to prefer walking to riding and Sand certainly was not going to object to the man's decision. His keen hearing easily picked up the low grumble that suddenly issued from the paladin's mouth, a grumble that said Casavir was once again thinking of all that had gone wrong. Sand's brow furrowed in irritation at the man's stubborness. Usually paladins were optimistic to the point of being annoying, but not this one. No he had to be stuck with the one paladin in all of Faerun that could not see the forest for the trees.

Sand closed his spellbook, knowing that he would not be able to memorize anything more now that his concentration had been broken. He had tried talking to Casavir, but all attempts had been firmly brushed aside and he had let the subject drop each time. However, the paladin's mood kept getting darker and that boded ill for a pleasant or purposeful journey. The thing the elf found most disturbing was the fact that he had not once seen Casavir pray to his god Tyr since their escape from the ruins. It had bothered him from the beginning that the paladin had not offered his healing services for their injuries, but he had chalked it up to the man being exhausted. The gods knew he himself had felt like he had been drained to the point of no return and certainly had not been capable of any strenuous magic. Now however, he felt that there was more to it than that and he decided to have it out with the man once and for all. He would not allow Casavir to dodge the issue any longer and as soon as they stopped to rest he would broach the subject.

Casavir walked down the road, his thoughts turned inwards once again, his eyes not seeing the beauty of the land around him. The journey so far had been quiet and peaceful, with not even a brigand to trouble them. He had become used to traveling fully armed and armored, to sleeping with one eye open and to standing watch every night. It almost made it impossible for him to sleep at night now knowing that there was no immediate danger to deal with. To know that this peace had cost the lives of those he held dear only darkened his mood further. Ashara had been lost, he had failed of his promise to Sir Nevalle, and he was not looking forward to seeing the man again in light of that failure. His failure left a bitter taste in his mouth and a dead feeling in his heart.

Noticing that it was now about mid day he began to look for spot to stop and have some lunch and rest a bit. They had made excellent time because they refused to rest longer than was absolutely necessary. He wasn't eager to return to Crossroad Keep, but he didn't want to delay that return either. Sand seemed to feel that things were not so hopeless or dark, and he wished he could feel the same way, but he just couldn't seem to convince himself of that. Finally he spied a shady little hollow off to the side of the road and headed for it. The grass was lush and the horses would be able to feed freely on it thus saving the grain they had purchased for the trip.

Sand gathered his thoughts and his determination as Casavir finished pulling out some food for their lunch. They ate in silence for a while, the horses cropping the grass the only sound to be heard. He peeked over at the paladin and saw the dark look on the man's face and decided enough was enough.

"Casavir it is time that you and I had a serious talk," he began and saw Casavir's expression turn wary. "You have avoided the issue for long enough and quite frankly I am tired of it. It is time to get it off your chest and move on."

"What issue might that be Sand?" Casavir asked, his tone flat and hard.

"You know damn well the issue!" the wizard snapped, finally losing control of his temper. "I have watched as you mutter, grumble, scowl and inwardly seethe over what you perceive to be an injustice, but it is all in your head. You are blaming yourself and more importantly Tyr, for events beyond your control. You have become someone I do not even know anymore and it is a person I am not sure I want to know."

"You don't know what you are talking about," Casavir retorted angrily. "You always think you know everything, but you don't know anything about my thoughts or feelings."

"As a matter of fact I do know more about what you are feeling than you might suspect," Sand said a little more calmly. He knew that if he let the anger get control of them then the discussion was doomed. "The simple fact that you have not completed your devotions to Tyr even once in the past couple of weeks is more than enough to confirm my knowledge."

Casavir glared at the wizard and growled out, "Go ahead Sand, enlighten me if you can."

Sand bit back a sharp retort at the sneering condescension in the paladin's voice. "The only reason a paladin stops his devotions to his god is because he has lost his faith, either in himself or his god. You have lost your faith Casavir, and not for any real reason but for imagined ones. You believe that because Ashara is missing that you have failed of your promise to Sir Nevalle. This also makes you believe that you have failed Tyr because you have failed to make good on that sworn promise. I happen to find these feelings a trifle egotistical on your part, something that I had not suspected you capable of before."

"It is not ego!" Casavir yelled at him. "It is truth and maybe you can close your eyes to it but I can't."

"It is an imagined truth, something you have created out of thin air Casavir," Sand said heatedly. "It is highly presumptious on your part to assume that you understand all the reasons for the events that have transpired. Only the gods are omniscient, not us mere mortals. To believe you have failed, without knowing such things, is to insult not only those of us who have survived, but Tyr as well. You are merely wallowing in self pity and I find that reprehensible."

Casavir felt himself flinch at the harsh words and this caused him to stop and take a closer look at his thoughts and feelings. Could Sand be right and was he merely indulging in his black mood for no reason other than a presumption of failure? The last time he had seen such a look of disgust on Sand's face was when Qara had turned traitor and joined Garius' side. To be looked at in that same way hurt him to the core and made him feel ashamed of his behavior. Qara had been a selfish and spoiled child and had been blind to her faults and weaknesses, thus she had been easily swayed by empty promises. He compared his current attitude to hers and realized that they were too similar to be denied. He looked up at Sand, his eyes filling with the dawning realization of what he had become.

"Now I do not want you getting down on yourself about the way you have been behaving Casavir," Sand said firmly. "What I do want is for you to stop blaming yourself, Tyr, and everyone else for what has happened and move forward with your life. I want to see you filled with the drive and purpose you had when we helped Ashara battle our enemies. Before that can happen you need to spend some quiet time praying to Tyr and asking his forgiveness for your blindness and stupidity. So I suggest that we find a better place to set up camp and that we stay there until you have found your faith and purpose once more."

Casavir stood up and then turned to face Sand and looked him sqare in the eye. Taking a deep breath he said sincerely, "I am lucky to have a friend such as you, one who will not stand idly by and let me slide into darkness without a fight. I am sorry that I could not see the truth without help and I thank you for your harsh words for they were honest and true."

"What are friends for if not to remind one that they are behaving like a spoiled child, hmm?" Sand asked, amusement now coloring the words.

Casavir felt his lips twitch and then he was laughing in a manner he had not experienced in a long time. "I'm glad that recent events have neither dulled your wits nor softened your tongue wizard," he finally said as his laughing subsided. "That would have been tragic indeed."

"Ashara did not keep me around for just my potion making and spell casting skills you know," Sand said haughtily. "She rather enjoyed exchanging barbs and trading words with me, despite the fact that she never won a bout. Indeed she practically ordered me to never lose my sharp tongue and even sharper wit. It is nice to see you acknowledge my other talents."

Still chuckling slightly, Casavir gathered their things before collecting the horses and starting down the road once more. As he walked he thought about Sand's words and kept an eye out for a good location for camp. Just a couple miles from where they had stopped for lunch he saw a small stream over which a bridge had been constructed. To the left he saw a stand of trees that looked like it had potential and headed for it. Upon reaching them he saw that there was a generous amount of space with lush grass in the middle and decided this would be the best place to camp. Together they removed the burdens from the horses and then removed their bridles. Sand cast a spell around the camp to keep any predators away from them so he would not have to worry about there being any interruption that night.

"I will make a fire and leave you to do whatever it is you paladins normally do during devotions," Sand said aloud to Casavir. "I have my spell books as well as a couple of other tomes to occupy my time. I do not want you to worry about me. Just focus your thoughts and energy on reestablishing your faith, hope, and trust, not only in your god, but also in yourself and your friends."

"Thank you Sand," Casavir said simply before digging into one of the bundles and pulling out the items he needed that he had always carried with him. As he looked at them he tried to remember the last time he had done devotions. When he realized that it had been months he felt his face heat as shame washed through him. No wonder he had been racked with such dark thoughts and feelings of guilt. He had a feeling that Sand knew exactly how long it had been and also just how much of an effect it had had on his behaviour. It made him all the more grateful to have the wizard's friendship and companionship. Moving away a little, he turned to face the setting sun and knelt down to begin setting things up for devotion. Once it was all arranged he sat back on his heels and stared at the items, at a loss as to how to proceed for the first time since he was a boy. Soon he realized that it wasn't because he had forgotten how, but because he felt unworthy to continued. As the thought crossed his mind he thought he heard a snort of amusement and turned quickly to look back at the wizard. However, Sand appeared to be engrossed in a tome and was paying no attention to him, so he figured it had been his imagination.

Sighing, he once more turned back and closed his eyes, relaxing his body and trying to open his mind and heart to Tyr. The old thoughts and feelings of doubt and failure tried to intrude but he resolutely pushed them aside, ignoring them. How long he sat there in silence he didn't know, but he became aware of an inner peace beginning to fill him. A light seemed to be shining through the darkness inside him, chasing aware the fears and doubts, allowing peace to flourish in his heart. That was when he found the words to pray to Tyr, to beg him for his blindness and lack of faith. With each prayer he felt his sense of peace and balance grow stronger and the words came easier. Soon his soul found the peace his heart felt and he felt a warmth wash over him and a smile curved his lips. The warm touch was that of Tyr and it was filled with love and forgiveness. He had forgotten what that felt like and was overjoyed to feel it once more. Tears flowed silently down his face as he realized that while he had turned his back to Tyr, his god had neither forgotten nor forsaken him. His tears stopped finally and a sigh left his lips. He sat for a while longer and then opened his eyes. When he did, he couldn't keep from gasping in surprise for night had fallen. He had been lost in his devotions for hours and yet it felt like no time had passed at all.

Sand looked up as he heard Casavir approach and then simply stared in fascination at the face before him. Where before the eyes had appeared devoid of emotion there was now a sparkle and light in them. Where once there was a scowl, the lips were curved in a slight smile. The muscles that had been tense before were now relaxed. Everything about the man now exuded a peace and confidence not seen in many months. "I am pleased to see you looking like your old self once again my friend," he stated simply.

"I am feeling like my old self again my friend," Casavir replied as he sat down on the opposite side of the fire. "You were right about everything and I was so wrong about so much. Not many would have stood by me like you did, nor would they have forced me to look hard at myself and my actions like you did. Forgive me for being a fool?"

"You are not a fool, but you are a human and one who feels everything so deeply, too deeply sometimes," Sand replied. "Humans as a whole tend to be very emotional and usually find themselves in deepest trouble when they let those emotions run loose. However, there are those among your kind, yourself included, who tend to bottle up their feelings too much. That is almost as disastrous as letting them have free reign. I however, being an elf and a highly intelligent one at that, have the ability to step back from my emotions and see both sides of an issue. That is how I understood your problem and also how I knew what the solution to your problem was. But all I did was point you in the right direction, everything else that happened was done by your will alone. No amount of knowledge or prompting would have made you take this step in regaining your true self if you did not want to do it."

"I know what you mean," Casavir nodded. "When I finished setting everything up and settled myself to start my devotions, I found myself in a quandry. I was unsure how to even begin and the doubts and fears started to creep up on me. However, this time I forced them away instead of embracing them because I knew if I didn't then I would truly be lost. I kept doing that over and over until they ceased to intrude. It was only then that I could begin to open up my heart and soul to Tyr. I poured everything out, left nothing hidden, and prayed harder than I have ever prayed before. One could say I had a desperate need to unburden myself and maybe I did. In the end I found the peace I needed and received the forgiveness I sought. Only one thing remains for me to feel complete, and that is to ask for your forgiveness. I know that I have made things more difficult for you than I should have and for that I apologize. If you find yourself unable to forgive me I can accept that, but I have to ask."

"Oh, you mean forgive you for being a pain in the ass?" Sand asked archly. "Forgive you for being silly? For being an idiot? For being a foolish human with all their foibles? For being stubborn to the point of obstinancy?"

"You don't have to rub it in wizard," Casavir scowled at the elf, but his lips twitched in humor.

"I have lived and worked with humans for more than three centuries," Sand snorted, his own lips twitching as he fought a smile. "I am used to dealing with their faults and failings, but rarely do I get to experience it when they realize their mistakes and correct them. I may not be perfect, and I do make mistakes myself on rare occasions, but I acknowledge it when I do and take steps to make sure I do not make the same mistake twice. I am glad to see that you are one of the rare humans who have the ability to fix their own problems, at least once they have someone point them out."

Casavir tried to scowl but found he was too happy now to do more than laugh at the wizard. "Maybe if humans lived as long as elves they would develop a simialr ability," he chuckled.

"Good gods, what a revolting thought!" Sand exclaimed. "Can you imagine someone like that good for nothing ranger or spoiled brat sorceress being around for a few centuries? The world would not survive such a thing," he snickered.

Casavir had started when the wizard mentioned those two of their companions that had betrayed them, but for the first time anger wasn't his immediate reaction. No, it was sorrow and disappointment that filled him now. He had always believed that miracles could and did happen, but it would have taken an act of the gods to move those two humans from their self chosen path to destruction.

"Sorry, I did not intend to put a damper on things by mentioning those two former thorns in our side," Sand apologized softly when he saw that Casavir was no longer laughing.

"Don't be," Casavir said firmly. "I have avoided the subject of the two traitors for too long, and there is no time like the present to discuss what they did and put them firmly in the past where they belong."

"Very well," Sand said amicably. "Qara brought her fate upon herself due to her stubborn refusal to see her own faults and failings. Bishop was too tortured by his past to ever find peace or allow anyone to accept him for who and what he was. Both of them were given every opportunity to change and neither chose to follow through. I actually thought that Bishop was beginning to change, that he was starting to see that there was more to life than wine, women, and killing. I believe that he was too afraid to let go of his past and embrace his future and that made it easy for him to turn against us. He has always run away from that which made him uncomfortable and what he was starting to feel as part of our group was uncomfortable to him. He disguised his running away by turning traitor, but in the end it was just a means to an end."

"I can understand him better now," Casavir replied. "My fear that I had failed made me turn away, but I managed to overcome it with your guidance."

"True, but you have always believed in Tyr even when you intentionally ignored him," Sand pointed out. "Bishop has never believed in anyone or anything, neither the gods nor himself, and thus had no reason to truly change his ways. As for Qara, she never even tried to listen to anything anyone said to her. She closed her ears and her mind to those around her and built a fantasy world in her head. A person who fears at least has a chance to change their ways, but one who does not use their brain has no chance at all. Qara claimed she was smarter than everyone but that only showed more clearly how stupid she truly was. She deserved what she got in the end."

"I don't know if I would agree with you on that point," Casavir frowned.

"That is because you saw her as a child who needed discipline and not a young woman out of control," Sand retorted. "I have seen her kind before and I feel you should know that they all meet a similar end. Those who covet power and regard only those with power as worthy of attention soon find themselves on the bad side of those around them and fall victim to that same power."

"I wonder if what Ashara did, letting Bishop go, had any effect on the ranger," Casavir mused softly.

"As we are not likely to see the man ever again, then we will never have an answer to that," Sand answered. "When we find Ashara, and we will find her alive, then we will know her reasons for what she did and see which of us is right."

Casavir was about to say more when the horses suddenly whinnied, and looking up, saw their heads pointed in the direction of the road. Looking that way, he saw a lone figure leading a pony coming their way. From the corner of his eye he saw Sand tensing, his lips moving as he prepared to cast a spell if the approaching figure proved to be a threat. After a couple of minutes, the man had come near enough for them to see he was old and carried no obvious weapon. Still, their experiences the past few months had made them overly suspicious of strangers and they didn't relax their guard.

"Good even' gentlemen, I don't mean to intrude but I saw your fire and was wondering if I might share it with you," the old man said by way of greeting.

Casavir studied the man intently but could sense no evil about him and so motioned the old man towards the fire. "Sit and be welcome," he told them.

"First, allow me to introduce myself," the old man smiled. "My name is Jonas Brinklemeyer and I am a tinker. I travel from town to town, village to village, plying my trade wherever my services are needed. This here is Pete, he's almost as old as me," Jonas stroked a hand affectionately down the old pony's nose as the animal snorted in disagreement.

"Welcome Jonas, I am Casavir and my companion is named Sand," the paladin introduced them.

"In my experience, craftsmen such as yourself generally do not travel the roads alone this late at night," Sand interjected, his voice holding a tone of suspicion.

"You are right about that, and normally I would not be on the roads now, but I had to leave the last village I was in," Jonas nodded, a sad note in his voice. "I knew I would not reach the next village before dark, but after what happened I couldn't stay there," he finished with a slight shudder. Even the pony seemed to feel his master's disquiet and nickered softly.

"Why? What happened that was so bad it made you want to leave?" Casavir asked in concern, his whole being tingling with an eagerness to ease the man's fears. He saw Sand also was now concerned and no longer tensed to cast a spell.

"I have travelled to many places, and I have seen many bad things and wicked acts, but what I witnessed today left me with a bad taste in my mouth," the old man answered. "I have never seen anyone act so callously and without regard for others feelings. Even when I saw someone killed in an angry dispute, at least there was a reason other than malicious amusement."

"Obviously you have never spent any length of time in the city of Luskan," Sand snorted. "That city has spawned some of the most callous, sadistic, and cruel people to ever walk the face of Faerun."

"I've never travelled to Luskan for that reason," Jonas nodded. "I had no wish to ever witness such things. That is why I left this last village. I didn't even wait to get paid for the few jobs I did, I just hurried out as fast as my old bones could carry me."

"What happened that was so horrible?" Casavir asked gently.

"I had been in the village for only a day and had already become uncomfortable with the men and women who lived there," Jonas began. "One of their favorite past times was gambling on cock fights. What was worse, everyone in the village, including the children, seemed to find enjoyment in watching two hapless animals tear each other to shreds. I knew that kind of thing went on but it just wasn't my cup o' tea."

"Unfortunately, many of the poorer, common folk have no other means of entertainment and so resort to such distasteful methods," Casavir spoke up.

"I know, but I had still determined to not stay any longer than necessary to finish the jobs I was asked to do," Jonas answered. "Usually, I rest my old bones for a while when the work is done before moving on. At any rate, early this morning a small caravan parked outside the village and the leader came looking to see if there was a blacksmith around. Apparently, one of the draft horses had thrown a shoe a few hours before and no one noticed it until the horse went lame. As I was the only one who had any skill at such a thing, the man offered me a handsome price to make a new shoe for his horse as quickly as possible. I went over and removed one of the other shoes so I could copy it and that's when I saw what the guy was hauling. It was a small, slave caravan that had four cages each with a person inside, all human. Then I noticed the way they were dressed and knew they were all gladiators, probably headed to Waterdeep to the arena there. Well, when the villagers saw that, they became all excited and started discussing the possiblities of witnessing a fight right there in their own village. The owner flatly refused each offer of payment until it got so high that he couldn't outright say 'no' and I held my breath to see what would happen."

"Those who own gladiators do not make any money if their fighters do not fight," Sand spoke up. "Most I have met do not turn down any opportunity to make a few coins. I wonder why this particular man was so hesitant?"

"If you had seen his gladiators you wouldn't ask," Jonas replied. "Each one was magnificent to behold in their own unique way, the kind of fighter that makes people sit up and take notice no matter the size of the ring they are in. Talent like that is not to be wasted on the likes of simple village folk. I thought for sure the owner would say no, but instead he countered. He agreed to the last price but made it a condition that one of the villagers would be the other gladiator in the fight. He was not going to run the risk of losing the services of two of his prizes due to injury. He even told them they could choose which of his fighters they wanted. Not suprisingly, the meanest and toughest of the village men, one by the name of Gerald, volunteered. Gerald stood about six and a half feet tall and weighed in at close to two hundred and fifty pounds at the least. Coulda been a gladiator himself. He went over and looked at the ones in the cages and to no one's surprise chose the lone female of the group. I guess he figured his chances were better of winning if he fought her."

"I have met some impressive female fighters in my time and I would not make such an assumption," Casavir said with a grim smile.

"She obviously was from one of the barbarian tribes because she was quite tall and muscular herself," Jonas continued. "To me she looked like she knew how to handle herself in a fight, regardless of who her opponent was, and I was really hoping to see her kick Gerald's ass. The man was an arrogant bastard and I thought it would be good if she could bring him down a peg or two. Anyway, they quickly set up a space for the fight to take place and all the villager's came over to watch and of course to place bets on the outcome. By this time, I had finished making the new shoe and was fitting it to the horse, making small adjustments as needed so it would fit properly. I guess the owner forgot I was there or didn't think I was paying attention, but I overheard a conversation between him and one of Gerald's rivals in the village. The gist of the conversation was that Gerald had cheated this other guy out of a prize and he was looking for revenge. He explained about the cock fights and how the people loved it most when one of the animals was killed in the struggle. He said that he could tell that the woman was a far better fighter than Gerald and that if Gerald was killed then no big loss. He in fact offered to pay extra to see that it was done."

"Dear gods! That's despicable," Casavir yelled in outrage, his stomach clenching in revulsion.

"Well, the owner didn't say yes, but he didn't say no either, he simply said he would wait and see what happened first," Jonas' voice began to tremble as he recalled the event. "As expected, Gerald was overmatched by the barbarian woman, and the other villages were thrilled to see the arrogant prick taken down a notch. In less than an hour after it had begun, she had Gerald on his back, bleeding profusely from several wounds, and completely at her mercy. As she stood over him, she seemed to think that it was over and looked ready to step away. Then the chants of the crowd reached her ears, 'Finish him! Finish him!', and her face went all white. I saw Gerald's rival pass some coin to the slave owner and he grinned the most evil, sadistic grin I have ever seen. He turned to the woman and order her to kill her opponent. She refused and he became angry, ordering her to finish Gerald off, his voice taking on a cold menace. When she still refused, he took a whip and lashed her with it a couple of times, drawing blood, and then ordered her to finish him or suffer the consequences. A couple more hard lashes convinced her of her master's sincerity and she slashed Gerald's throat with her sword and then turned towards her master. I thought she might attack him, but he had two really big guards by his side that moved quickly to disarm her. She was dragged back to her cage, but not before her master backhanded her brutally for her defiance of him."

"As sad as it is, that is unfortunately a common occurance in the life of a slave," Sand said softly, his own stomach rebelling at the story. "If she had continued to refuse, she would most likely have suffered much worse than a few lashes from a whip, might even have been killed. When you are not given a choice in the matter you cannot be held to blame."

"I saw her as she was shoved inside the cage, the look on her face one of despair and pain, and my heart twisted with pity for her," Jonas choked back his tears. "She looked so young and yet so noble that I wondered how she had come to be a slave. I cautiously approached her and asked her who she was and where she had come from. She pushed her long red hair back from her face and looked me straight in the eyes and said she was called Flame but that she had no memory of how she came to be a slave or where she had come from. She had beautiful emerald green eyes, like those of a cat, but they were filled with a hopelessnes and despair that I hope never to see again." He paused as he heard both men gasp loudly and looked up puzzled.

"Did you say red hair and green eyes?" Casavir whispered, his eyes wide, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. Seeing Jonas nod, he had to know for sure and asked the old man to describe everything he could remember of what she looked like.

"Well like I said she was tall, maybe six feet and had to weigh somewhere around a hundred and eighty pounds," Jonas replied. "She handled that great sword like she was completely familiar with its use and she moved with the grace, power, and speed of a panther. She didn't strike me as a slave, more like a warrior princess I guess you could say."

"Sand, it has to be her, has to be Ashara," Casavir said excitedly and saw that the wizard looked skeptical. "Come on Sand, even amongst the barbarian tribes it is rare for a woman to be that tall and weigh that much. What are the odds that there are two such as her in all the lands?"

"Astronomical but not impossible," Sand answered and saw some of the excitement fade from Casavir's face. "However, combined with her coloring, her choice of weapon and her obvious skills, I would say that the gladiator known as Flame and Ashara are indeed one and the same."

"Jonas, you said they were headed to Waterdeep?" Casavir turned back to the old man. Seeing him nod a resolute expression settled on the paladin's face. "Then that is where we must go," he looked at Sand and saw the wizard nod in acceptance of his decision. "If you would like to, you may accompany us Jonas. You have skills that might come in handy at some point and even though the land is safer than it has been, there are still many dangers out there for one travelling alone."

"Thank you for the offer, but I can't travel so quickly anymore and I don't want to slow you down," Jonas declined.

"No problem, we have a quite capable riding mount that you can use," Sand spoke up. "I am quite used to walking about at breakneck speed over the land and will manage just fine."

"Then in that case I accept your generous offer," Jonas smiled. "I think that we should have something to eat and try to get some sleep. The night is passing quickly."

After eating a hastily prepared dinner, all three stretched out on their bedrolls and tried to sleep. Casavir stayed awake for some time marvelling at how quickly everything had changed. Only the day before, he had been feeling lost and alone, unsure of what to do or where to go. Now he once again walked in Tyr's light and he knew where to find Ashara. He would be able to complete his task of bringing her home to Nevalle. As he fell asleep, he sent a silent prayer of thanks to Tyr, positive that it had been his god that had brought Jonas to them to give them a purpose once more. They would go to Waterdeep and find a way to free Ashara and bring her back home safe and sound.


	9. Chapter 8: Defiance and Determination

Chapter 8: Defiance and Determination

Lord Nasher leaned back in his throne, fixing his gaze on the man standing stiffly at attention at the foot of it. The knight's whole body bespoke his tension although the man's eyes revealed nothing of the emotional struggle going on inside. Nasher had listened with an open mind to everything that Nevalle had to say and now he had a decision to make, a very tough decision. Studying Nevalle he noticed that the man looked a good deal better than the last time they had been together, despite the fact that he had lost a good deal of weight. The haunted look was gone from the man's eyes, replaced by determination and perhaps eagerness. What he was asking for however was not an easy thing to grant, in fact was impossible. Sighing inwardly he realized that more thinking would not change his decision and it would not do to make the poor knight wait any longer.

"Sir Nevalle, you have served me loyally and honorably for a long time," Lord Nasher began and saw the man come to attention. "You have made very compelling arguments in support of your request and I would like nothing more to grant it, but I cannot."

Nevalle's eyes grew round as he stared in disbelief at his liege. "My lord, surely you aren't going to deny me?" he said softly, disbelief and hurt clear in his voice.

"I'm sorry, but you are asking me to allow you to go off in search of the Knight-Captain based upon a general scrying done by a couple of wizards," Nasher said firmly. Seeing Nevalle about to protest some more he held his hand up to halt the flow of words. "I know that the wizards of the Cloaktower are amongst the most talented in the realm. However, scrying such as they have done is not really any more reliable than rumors spread by travelling bards. They were not able to tell you anything more concrete than that what you seek could be found in the direction of Waterdeep. They could not determine if the Knight-Captain was alive, where she was, or whom she might be with. They could not even say for certain if what they picked up even concerned Ashara. Without hard evidence all I would be doing is sending you off for an unknown length of time on a journey that might end up with you discovering that she is dead after all."

"Lord Nasher, my daughter is not dead, of that I can assure you," Daeghun spoke up, his voice quiet but firm in its conviction.

"I know you believe that, but I need solid evidence of some kind that it is true," Nasher replied just as firmly. Turning back to the knight before him he continued. "Nevalle, you are not merely a knight of the realm, you are the premier knight of the realm. You are the Captain of the Nine, my personal guard. You are also my right hand in all matters concerning the realm of Neverwinter. You are too important to me and Neverwinter, too valuable to risk on another wild goose chase. Your request for a leave of absence is denied."

"My lord, please, I must be allowed....," Nevalle began only to be interrupted.

"My decision is final Nevalle," Lord Nasher waived a hand imperiously. "Daeghun is certainly capable of performing such a search by himself, and I am quite certain that he is more than capable of looking out for himself as well. If he discovers something more concrete, he can send word back and only then will I reconsider my decision. I'm sorry it must be this way, but your place is here. While Sir Darmon is a most capable knight he doesn't have your leadership abilities nor your easy command of troops and people. Crossroad Keep needs a strong person to hold it and you are that person until further notice."

Nevalle felt his hopes start to die inside him and at the same time something else, something darker and stronger, start to awaken. Schooling his features into an emotionless mask, he bowed deeply to his lord. "As you command my lord, may I take my leave of you now?" he said flatly.

Nasher nodded his assent and watched with a heavy heart as Nevalle left the throne room, the wood elf at his side. He wished he could give the man what he wanted, Nevalle's exemplary service and devotion certainly worthy of it. However, he had to do what was best for his city, regardless of personal feelings. Feeling a prescence at his elbow, he turned to find Gervais standing there, a look of concern on the old face, and perhaps a bit of censure? "You think I am wrong, that the decision I just made was unfair?" he asked sharply.

"I believe you are acting according to what is best for Neverwinter, in which case your decision is the correct one," Gervais hedged and saw the speculative look his master gave him. Sighing, he figured Nasher wanted to hear his personal opinion and he would give it. "Personally I think it is the wrong one," he said softly so no one else would hear. "The odds are that the Knight-Captain is alive but is probably either injured or in some other way incapable of letting us know. At the very least, she is deserving of more effort on our part because, quite frankly, Neverwinter would be destroyed if not for her and her companions. Already several of them have given their lives for this nation, do you wish to add her body to the total as well?"

"I am not unaware of what she and her companions have done for me or this city," Nasher said sharply, just managing to keep his tone low. "But with nothing else to go on other than a brief and very incomplete scrying what else can I do? Nevalle will be needed here for the next few weeks and he knows this as well as I do. I have already allowed him leave to search the Mere and that took him away from his duties for over three weeks. I simply cannot justify anything further. If Nevalle were thinking with his head rather than his heart he would agree with me."

"Ah my lord, but there in lies the problem," Gervais said softly. "Remember, I told you that I have rarely seen a love as deep or all consuming as that between Sir Nevalle and Knight-Captain Thenner. You are asking him to choose between his love and his duty and I am afraid that it will not end well. Your decision today will eat at him like a cancer and will one day consume him. When that happens you will lose him forever. Are you prepared for that?"

"I think you are reading too much into this Gervais," Lord Nasher said shortly, a twinge of uncertainty running through him which he ignored as best he could. Gervais was uncanny at forseeing such things, but he wasn't always right.

"I will say no more then," Gervais bowed and then headed out the side door and towards the royal chambers. Lord Nasher was once again closing his eyes to the truth because said truth didn't fit in with his plans. If it turned out that his decision caused more harm to come to another hero of Neverwinter it could very well be his undoing. The last time an outsider had saved the city and Nasher's throne the reward had been a brief nod and a hurried exit out of the city. Many citizens protested the actions then and Gervais knew that a second such event would raise an even greater hue and cry. Greater rulers than Nasher had been dethroned over such things and one could only hope that such did not happen this time.

Meanwhile, Nevalle had reached the courtyard of the palace and come to a dead stop, his eyes unseeing, his thoughts turned inward. Lord Nasher had refused his request, even though he knew how much Ashara meant to him. His years of loyalty and unquestioned obedience had not earned him the right to a leave of absence to seek her out. His thoughts went back to a little over six years ago when the war with Luskan had come to an end. He had only been a member of the Nine at the time, but he had often been assigned to Lord Nasher's right hand. When the former Captain had died in defense of the city, Nasher had not hesitated to promote him. He remembered the thrill that ran through him at being chosen for this highest of honors. Now he felt only anger and revulsion towards Nasher. With these thoughts came the memory of the last Hero of Neverwinter, a young warrior by the name of Jarrod. He too had risen to the pinnacle of power and was treated callously by Lord Nasher. When Jarrod had been paid off and shown to the gates, ugly rumors began to circulate amongst the common people and the nobles. The rumors even spread to members of the Nine and Nasher's own counselors. The rumors claimed that Nasher's actions were because he feared that Jarrod would overthrow him and seize control of Neverwinter and all her lands. Nevalle had come to know the young man quite well and nothing could be further from the truth. He couldn't help but wonder if something similar was the motivation behind Nasher's decision today. Ashara's popularity amongst the army was higher than Nasher's, she was adored by the commons, and grudgingly respected by the nobles and merchants. Those who served under her at Crossroad Keep would gladly follow her into the hells and back. She could become a threat to Nasher if she wanted to. However, it just wasn't in her nature to do such a thing, anymore than it had been for Jarrod. Could Nasher be afraid that she would overthrow him upon her return? he wondered. It was ridiculous to think so, but Nevalle could come up with no better rationale for his lord's decision.

"It is a long ride back to the keep and I do not believe you would wish to tarry in this city any longer Nevalle," Daeghun's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"No, I certainly don't," Nevalle growled out and resumed walking to the castle stables where their mounts awaited them. "I have a "duty" to perform after all." This last statement was sneered in such a bitter tone that it sent a shiver down the elf's back.

"Do not let your emotions cloud your judgement Nevalle," Daeghun cautioned. "I know you are feeling hurt and betrayed right now, but do think long and hard before you do something rash."

"I am the Captain of the Nine," Nevalle snorted. "We are trained to not act upon our emotions."

Daeghun's eyes narrowed thoughtfully at the knight's back. No man, dwarf, elf or other sentient being was immune to emotions such as love and hate. They were opposite sides of the same coin and often went hand in hand. They were the emotions that could bridge the gulf between nations or catapult the same nations into open war. "Love conquers all" and "Hate destroys all" were not simple euphamisms but very potent truths. Right now, Nevalle was in the grips of both and eventually they would either break him or give him the strength to endure.

Upon reaching the stables, Nevalle quickly saddled his horse and then went and filled the canteens with water from the stable well. Going to a small storage room he filled a sack with some grain for the horses, bread, dried meats, cheese and a few apples and carrots. Anything else they needed Daeghun would be able to provide them with on the trip. Both men mounted and were soon trotting briskly towards the city gates. People bowed and nodded respectfully as Nevalle passed and city watch members saluted him, but he didn't acknowledge them like he usually did for his thoughts were still seething over Nasher and his command.

As they rode out of the city and spurred their horses into an easy canter, Daeghun could not keep from worrying about Nevalle. He had come to know the man pretty well the past few weeks and knew why Ashara had fallen in love with him. Nevalle was loyal to a fault, dedicated, and commited to his lord. Furthermore, like Ashara, he was not one to sit back and let others handle his job or fight his battles. This had never been a problem for the knight before, for usually they coincided with each other. Now Nevalle's loyalty and honor were facing a serious test. He could almost see the thoughts chasing through the man's head. The knight was struggling to reconcile his duty with his desire to discover Ashara's fate first hand. There were really only two choices for the knight in this situation. The first being to bow to the dictates of duty and obey Lord Nasher's wishes. Daeghun knew that if Nevalle chose to do that and Ashara suffered more hurt because of the decision, then the knight would be devastated. He would become a mere shadow of his former self and both Neverwinter and Ashara would lose him. If he chose to follow his heart, disobey orders, and seek out Ashara himself, then he would be reunited with the love of his life and probably find true happiness and contentment. Unfortunately, that would most likely result in the knight being declared a traitor, stripped of his titles and his rank, and being banished from the realm. Neverwinter would lose him, but Ashara would not care and would happily leave everything behind to be with the man she loved. However, Daeghun knew some influential people and still had a few debts he could call in. He could make sure that Nevalle did not suffer unduly if the knight chose the latter option. In fact, he secretly hoped the man would, for despite Nasher's opinion, he would no doubt need Nevalle's help once they found Ashara. Ashara was alive and the fact that she had not contacted anyone or sent a message meant she was in serious trouble. Waterdeep and the lands around it were big and the city itself had its own hierarchy. Nevalle would be far better suited to moving in the higher circles than he was. He hoped that whatever Nevalle decided that the man fully acknowledged the possible consequences of his actions. He feared that the knight would give in to his emotions and act recklessly or foolishly.

They continued riding until well after dark before searching for an ideal spot for camp. Daeghun could get by with a couple hours of sleep, but Nevalle knew he was too tired to do without at least six hours. Most of it was because of the emotional toil the day had had on him, but his body's endurance wasn't what it was just a few months ago either. As he sat beside the fire munching on some of the dried rations, he decided he wanted, no needed, to hear Daeghun's opinion on the current situation. "Not so long ago, I was contemplating a future at Ashara's side as she commanded the Keep and prepared for those final days of war," he said quietly, his eyes on the flames. "Not longer after that I secretly rejoiced at the knowledge that Lord Nasher wanted to make Ashara the permanent Lady of the keep. After today I now have to question if perhaps Nasher merely said that because he knew it was what I wanted to hear. If he can treat me, his most loyal and obedient servant, with such callous disregard, then how can I reasonably expect him to grant to Ashara such a magnanimous gift?"

"I do not believe that is the case Nevalle," Daeghun said cautiously, wondering where the knight was headed with this line of thought. "I think your disappointment is clouding the issue."

"Not really," Nevalle snorted. "You remember how Neverwinter was saved during the last war with Luskan don't you?"

"I believe it was a young man, a commonor, who succeeded in destroying Morag and freeing the city," Daeghun answered.

"The young man's name was Jarrod and Ashara reminds me of him," Nevalle said, his voice going flat and cold as he thought about the past. "Young, brave, willing to do what was right, what was necessary for the good of all. Idealistic as hell, tough as nails, able to give as good as he got, but unfailingly kind and courteous to all regardless of station. He was hailed as a hero, songs were sung in his honor, and wealthy families eagerly presented their daughters to him for marriage. One day he was welcomed in the halls of Castle Never and the next he was shown to the gates with a large sum of gold, a hurried thanks, and blessing for a safe journey. He was gone before anyone truly realized it. Many believed that Lord Nasher acted out of jealousy that the boy had done what he could not and out of fear that the people would seek to overthrow him and place Jarrod on the throne."

"I had heard rumors to that effect from my half-brother Duncan," Daeghun nodded. "I do not believe there was any truth to them. Lord Nasher is many things but he is not a vindictive man."

"I'm not so sure of that, not anymore," Nevalle muttered darkly. "Given what we know about Ashara now, what do you feel is the best course of action for me to take? Obey my lord's command or turn my back to him and go find my love?"

Daeghun stared intently at the man across the fire, noting the anger burning behind his eyes and the firm set to his mouth. He got the feeling Nevalle had already made a decision and was just seeking confirmation of it. "Nevalle, you know better than I do what the consequences of either decision would be. My opinion does not matter. You have to be the one to decide and live with whatever consequences result from your decision. There are times in our lives when we must take upon ourselves responsibility for what we do. This is one of those times. I cannot tell you what is the right thing for you. I would suggest that you consider not just your feelings but the feelings of others around you. Your family and friends will inevitably be affected by any choice you make. You must be the one to weigh this in your heart and then decide. We will not reach Crossroad Keep for another three days at least. You will have plenty of time to think along the way and I hope you will make good use of that time."

"I hadn't thought of how my family or friends would react," Nevalle said musingly. "My parents were so proud I was named Captain of the Nine and they would be very disappointed if I did anything to ruin things. However, they know how I feel about Ashara and they only want me to be happy, so they would be content with whatever decision I make." He stared down at his hands for a while thinking. "If Callum were here he would probably say that honor and duty must come before personal feelings or ambitions. Darmon would probably encourage me to go after Ashara, if only because it would cause Lord Nasher to strip me of my rank for disobediance. Darmon is ambitious and while we are friends, he is not above taking advantage if it means furthering his own career. He certainly would never put any woman before his career and would probably think me a fool if I did such a thing."

"Like I said, you must weigh all these things into any decision you make," Daeghun said firmly. "It is not an easy decision and one not to be made hastily."

Nevalle nodded and then got up to grab his bedroll and set it beside the fire. "Do you wish to take first watch or shall I?"

"I do not need to sleep right now so I will stand watch," Daeghun replied.

Nevalle nodded and crawled into his bedroll and lay quietly looking up at the stars. His mind however was racing and he found sleep to be elusive. He figured he would probably not be getting much sleep unitl he had made a decision one way or the other. Despite the turmoil in his mind, his body's demand for rest eventually made him fall asleep.

Daeghun watched silently as Nevalle shifted restlessly, not seeming to be able to relax. Given the momentous decision facing the knight this was not surprising to the elf. He himself was lucky that one of the little known ability of elves was the fact that they could rest their mind even as they walked about the land. This was as helpful to them as a full night's sleep for humans. He had a feeling that he would be employing this technique all the way to the keep.

*****************

On the afternoon of the third day they reached the keep and were met by a very excited Darmon.

"Thank the gods you're back, you won't believe who showed up here yesterday!" Darmon exclaimed as he met them at the gate. Seeing the hopeful expression come to Nevalle's face he realized that his friend was coming to the wrong conclusion. "No Nevalle, not Ashara, it's Elanee."

Nevalle felt disappointment so strong that it almost overwhelmed him and he had to swallow a couple of times before he could speak. "Where is she? Did she say anything about the others?"

"No, she was exhausted when she arrived and has been sleeping a great deal since she got here," Darmon shook his head.

"Sleeping? So she is hurt then," Daeghun said matter of factly as he followed the men into the keep. Seeing the surprise on their faces he elaborated. "An elf does not sleep so much unless it is to facilitate the body's natural healing process."

"Yeah she seemed to be recovering from some pretty bad injuries," Darmon nodded. "However, she refused to say anything until you returned Nevalle. I got the feeling that she knows something about Ashara and the others and wanted to wait for you to return."

"Where is she?" Nevalle said as he came to a stop in the throne room, ignoring Kana's greeting on his return.

"Her old room in the sleeping quarters," Darmon answered and started to follow them but stopped when Nevalle motined for him to remain where he was. He watched as Nevalle and Daeghun hurried in that direction and bit back the impulse to follow. No doubt he would be told anything of importance they discovered.

Daeghun entered the room first and stopped as he got a good look at the druid lying on her bed. She was much too thin and her body still bore the marks of severe injuries. The fact that she had not used her healing abilities on herself spoke volumes about how seriously hurt she had been. Moving to stand quietly beside the bed, he saw her eyes open and focus on his face before a soft smile curved her lips. "It is good to see you have returned alive to us Elanee of the Mere," he said softly.

"It took everything I had just to make it here," Elanee whispered, her voice thin and weak. "I knew you would be waiting for word Nevalle," she turned her gaze to the knight as he came and stood next to Daeghun.

"We have already discovered the fate of those who went into the Mere," Nevalle said quietly. "We know that you and others managed to escape somehow but we couldn't determine where you had ended up. Do you feel up to telling us what happened?"

"I have strength enough," Elanee nodded. "We had been victorious, but the death of the King of Shadows caused whatever power he had been using to fail and the ruins began to collapse. When we found the portal none of us were keen on the idea of using it for the power within it was fluctuating wildly. Then Ashara stated simply that we were dead either way and jumped into it leaving us to follow behind as best we could."

"It was explained to us by wizards at the Cloaktower that there would have been no way for you to control where you ended up," Daeghun spoke up. "They said they knew of portals all across the land, that the Illefarn Empire was vast and encompassing. All they could determine through scrying was that someone could be found towards Waterdeep and that possibly one was as far north as Icewind Dale."

"I actually ended up closer to the Mere than I expected," Elanee said and then coughed harshly. "I was flung from the portal with great speed and came crashing to the ground so hard I was knocked unconcious. How long I was out cold I do not know, but when I awoke I found myself unable to move. A quick assessment of my injuries showed that the fall had broken both my legs and cracked several of my ribs. I was helpless to move but I had enough strength to summon a dire wolf to protect me while I healed myself. It took me over a week of resting and healing before I was finally able to get to my feet. I began making my way to Crossroad Keep for I was alone and had no idea where anyone else was."

"So Ashara was not near you," Nevalle said flatly, his brief hope dying a quick death.

"No, I saw nobody and heard nothing while I lay there," Elanee shook her head. "From where I was I could see the portal and it looked like it had cracked somewhat. I guess the unstable power unleashed towards the end destroyed it and I considered myself lucky to even be alive. I do know that when powered, one could use the portals to locate others. I knew that if the power was gone that I had no hope of finding where the others might have ended up without help. I set my sights on Crossroad Keep and made the best time I could in getting here."

"So Nasher was right, the others could be dead," Nevalle said in a stony voice.

"No I do not believe so," Elanee said, her voice getting weaker. "I was the last one to go through and I made it out alive, albeit not in good shape. I have no doubt the others are alive as well and are probably heading this way even as I have."

"We can speak more on this later," Daeghun interjected firmly. "You need to rest some more or you will do yourself more harm than good." Seeing her nod and close her eyes, he took Nevalle's arm and led him from the room, closing the door quietly behind them. "Lord Nasher is wrong and they are alive and I will find them."

"No, we will find them," Nevalle said firmly, his eyes filled with determination. "Elanee was last through the portal, and even though she was badly injured she still lives. Ashara is alive and I made a promise to her that not even all the devils of the Abyss would keep me from her side."

"Leaving the keep and chasing after Ashara is a violation of your oath to Lord Nasher and Neverwinter," Daeghun said firmly. "Are you prepared for the consequences of that action?" He wanted to make absolutely sure Nevalle knew what he was doing, for he did not want the man to regret the action later. Ashara would be the one to suffer the most if that happened.

"I love Ashara more than life itself," Nevalle said, his voice unsteady with emotion. "Indeed, without her my life has no meaning, no purpose. Titles, lands, wealth and power are nothing if they mean sacrificing love to keep them."

"What about Ashara's feelings?" Daeghun asked and saw a puzzled frown cross the knight's face. "Do you think she would be happy with you if you gave up those things to be with her?"

"We talked about it before she left, on more than one occasion," Nevalle answered. "She didn't like the idea of my being a rich noble and often said she wished I were just a commoner like her. So no, I don't think she would be unhappy. She loves me just as much as I love her and she told me that it was all she would ever need from me. She loved me for the man I am, not for the titles I hold or the money I have."

"Very well," Daeghun nodded. "I did not want to influence you in your decision before, but now that you have chosen I can tell you that I am glad that you will accompany me. Waterdeep is a mysterious city, one I am not familiar with. It is controlled by the mages and nobles that live there and I am not comfortable dealing with their kind. You have lived your entire life moving in such circles and will have no such problems."

"I think we should sleep here tonight and head out at dawn," Nevalle said as he walked back to the throne room. "We will gather all the provision we might need today. It will take us at least a week and a half to reach Waterdeep, but we may find evidence that leads us in another direction along the way. I think we should plan as if we will be travelling the countryside for a month or longer even."

"Your reasoning is sound Sir Nevalle," Daeghun nodded and saw the knight give him an odd look as he came to a stop. "What?"

"Just call me by my name," Nevalle said with a bitter smile on his lips. "After today, I will probably be stripped of my titles."

"Do not concern yourself with that right now," Daeghun replied. "Depending on what kind of results we achieve you may find forgiveness for what you do. One cannot predict the future."

Nevalle shrugged and entered the throne room and came to a stop before Darmon and Kana. "You should both know that I intend to accompany Daeghun to find Ashara and the others who have survived. I will need you to watch over the keep in my absence and I don't know how long I will be gone."

"Did Lord Nasher give you permission for this Nevalle?" Darmon asked sharply, concern in his voice. Seeing the expression on his friend's face he uttered a colorful curse. "You know what will happen don't you? Lord Nasher will not hesitate to punish you for this. Think about what you are doing."

"I have thought about it, a great deal as a matter of fact," Nevalle said with a smile. "Nasher has his own agenda, whatever it is, but I made a promise to Ashara that I hold more dear than any oath to Neverwinter. I would not be able to live with myself if I didn't search for her and lost her forever. Can you understand that?"

"You love her that much?" Darmon said softly and saw him nod. "Alright, I will try to keep the news from Lord Nasher as long as possible and maybe by then more information will be revealed to support your claim that Ashara is alive." Seeing Nevalle's surprise he laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "I admire Ashara very much and I value your friendship a great deal Nevalle. I can't keep it form him for long, but I will do my best."

"Perhaps we can make it seem as if Sir Nevalle has collapsed and become bed ridden due to exhaustion," Lt. Kana spoke up. "Given you recent condition sir, it is a plausible occurrance."

"Nasher will deal with you more harshly than either myself or Darmon if you help us in this matter," Nevalle cautioned.

"With all due respect sir, I hold the Knight-Captain in higher regard than Lord Nasher," Lt. Kana retorted. "I consider her my friend and she has earned my trust and loyalty."

"Then that's settled, when do you leave?" Darmon clapped his hands together, a grin coming to his lips.

"At dawn," Nevalle told them and then hurried off to the kitchens to see about supplies. As he walked away he couldn't help but be amazed that he had misjudged both Darmon and Kana so badly. They were actually willing to risk Nasher's displeasure simply because they like him and Ashara that much. Even if he lost all that he possessed, their friendship would be the one treasure no one could ever take away.

"I hope that everything works out for Nevalle," Darmon said quietly as he watched his friend walk away. "I know how long he has looked for a woman like Ashara and I know he would not be happy without her. I would hate to see him lose his position, but I think he's made the right decision for himself."

"I have some small influence with certain powerful nobles in Neverwinter," Daeghun told them. "I intend to see to it that Nevalle does not unduly suffer for his decision for it will make my daughter happy to be with him and that is all I care about."

"The Nine will support him, for we all admire and love him," Darmon said emphatically. "Lord Nasher will have to bow to the wishes of those who support him and everyone knows it."

"Well hopefully it won't come to that," Lt. Kana chuckled. "Hopefully Lord Nasher will come to his senses beforehand." The looks she got said that it was doubtful, but one could always hope. "I'll go see to the horses you will need for your journey," she nodded at them and headed out.

"I will go sit with Elanee and wait for her to awaken again," Daeghun said. "She may yet be able to provide us with answers or, at the very least, clues as to what we can expect or where we might look. The more information we have before we set off the better." He turned and walked swiftly and quietly towards the sleeping quarters.

Darmon realized that he was alone and also that he had nothing to do, so he decided to go to the Phoenix Tail and let Sal and Wolf know what was up. He knew that most of the men in the keep would be agreeable to the charade and would have no compunction about helping to keep Lord Nasher in the dark about what was planned. Such was the respect with which the men serving at the keep viewed Ashara. Darmon chuckled to himself and shook his head. Ashara had been with them for less than a year but had had a great impact on everyone around her. He wondered what Lord Nasher's reaction would be when he did find out, for he would eventually. Hopefully, the fall out from their Lord's anger would not be too great.


	10. Chapter 9: Waterdeep's Newest Gladiator

Chapter 9: Waterdeep's Newest Gladiator

Flame stood in the middle of the arena, great sword held in a salute, and a smile on her face as the spectators cheered her victory. She had been in the city of Waterdeep for a week now and this was her fifth fight and her fifth victory. At first she was bothered by the adulation for she couldn't keep from feeling that being good at fighting was not something to be appluaded for. However, after some long talks with other gladiators she found she was actually coming to accept with equanimity hearing her name chanted by those who watched. She still had doubts, but they didn't prevent her from deriving some satisfaction from her new found fame. As her defeated opponent was helped from the field, she gave a final salute and then turned and walked towards her own side of the arena. As she passed by the nobles boxes, she was unaware of the eyes that followed her as she disappeared from sight behind the iron portcullis that guarded the fighters area from the rest of the place.

Jocelyn Martell sat in his father's box and stared longingly after the beautiful woman as she left the arena. She was the most magnificent creature he had ever seen and he had had many dreams about her since he had first seen her three days ago. He had been ordered to sit with his father at the arena while his father had conducted business talks with a potential new trading partner. His family owned the largest and most successful horse farm in the area. For generations the family farm had provided the best horseflesh to the nobility and the fighting men of Waterdeep and Neverwinter. When his father, Erik, had taken over the reins of the business from his grandfather Robert, Erik had decided to expand the business beyond the confines of Waterdeep and Neverwinter territory. Erik had researched potential areas and put out feelers to merchants in places such as the Dalelands, Amn, and even Cormyr. A positive response had been received from a merchant in Cormyr and said merchant had travelled to Waterdeep for the meeting. Having never been to a fight such as those held at the arena, the merchant, one Thomas Radford by name, had insisted on conducting the talks there. As the heir to the family business, Jocelyn had been required to be present at all such meetings, and thus he had reluctantly accompanied his father. His reluctance had not stemmed from the business talks for he loved the business and was always eager to participate in such things. No, his reluctance was because he had never cared for watching two strangers, heavily armed and muscled, bashing each other into bloody messes. Some of his friends teased him about being squeamish, but it wasn't the sight of blood that bothered him. There had been plenty of wars in and around Waterdeep, the most recent one in Neverwinter having ended a mere few weeks ago. Yet, here they were, watching people get hurt, sometimes seriously, in mock battles all for the amusement of others. He didn't find anything entertaining or amusing about it and thus hated to go there at all.

So while he had listened to his father and the trader talking, he had pretty much ignored what went on in the ring until he had seen her step into it. He had caught a glimpse of the woman out of the corner of his eye and been intrigued enough to take a closer look because female fighters were a rarity. Once he looked, he found himself mesmerized by the way she moved and found himself unable to look away. She was very tall and the skimpy outfit she wore emphasized the well developed muscles of her body. Her hair was a rich shade of red, almost ruby in color, and it held the same fire as the Blood Ruby in the necklace his mother always wore on special occasions. He could just make out her face and he caught the flash of green eyes, almost like those of a cat, glittering in the afternoon sun. When the fight started, he watched as she moved with precision, speed and grace, much like the way a panther or mountain lion moved. She was extremely skilled and he knew within minutes that her opponent was totally outclassed. Sure enough, before the fight had gone even ten minutes, she had managed to drive her opponent to his knees and forced his surrender. Over the cheering of the crowd he heard the announcer call out her name: Flame. The nickname suited her, although they could have also called her the Red Cat, for she certainly seemed to embody the spirit of those magnificent wild cats, at least in his opinion. He had thought about her that first night as he lay in bed, wondering where she had come from and what her real name was. Whoever she was, she was so far out of his league that he knew it was foolish to hope to ever be with her, but it still didn't stop him from dreaming about the possibilities.

The morning after that first fight he had gone down to the arena and inquired about other fights she might be scheduled for. The ticket agent had smiled and said that Flame was stirring up all kinds of interest from people all over the city. She was the number one topic of conversation in the taverns and restaurants, and was the subject of much speculation even amongst the other fighters. Jocelyn could certainly understand why. She was not only a beautful woman, but she was a formidable opponent, something that he knew attracted men of all ages and types. No gladiator in recent years had stirred up as much business for the arena in such a short time as Flame had. The cost of tickets to her next three matches were steep, but he gladly paid it, ignoring the smirk given him by the agent. He figured they increased the ticket price because of her popularity, but money was not an issue for him so he didn't care. Tickets in hand he had headed home, already impatient for the next fight, which wasn't until later that evening. When he had asked why her next three were at night when the previous one had been in the afternoon, the ticket agent had snorted and rolled his eyes. Because of her popularity, the arena owners had decided to cash in on it by scheduling her fights at a time when the arena would have the highest turn out. Feeling a little stupid, Jocelyn had merely nodded and left. He wasn't all that surprised that the owners had done such a thing. He knew from talks he had overheard by some of his father's friends and associates that the arena's popularity had begun to decline in recent months. There had been many talks about it, with many suggesting that it was because the fights and even fighters had become predictable and routine. The old adage that once you've seen one, you've seen them all, holding true in the arena. However, no one had any idea of what could be done to turn things around. Well, within one week, Flame had done what all the great thinkers of Waterdeep had failed to do. She had resurrected interest in the Gladiator fights at the arena.

As he sat there thinking on all the fights he had watched, he couldn't help but compare hers to others he had witnessed and found them to all be lacking in some way. He didn't know what it was about the way she fought, but he knew that she had more experience at it than other, older gladiators. It was just a feeling, but he suspected that she knew more about war and fighting than anyone else in the place. He decided then and there to investigate her situation and see what he could find out about where she came from and what her backgroudn was. He already knew she was a slave for he had overheard a conversation to that effect. However, she didn't have that look to her and he also got the impression that fighting in the arena was not something she liked doing. All of it merely added to the puzzle that she was. It was a puzzle that he found himself eager to solve. Maybe, if he could solve it and free her she would be grateful. He had heard tales of grateful woman favoring their saviours and even though it was foolish, he couldn't keep from dreaming of the possibilities. Finally, with a sigh, he stood up and left his father's box and headed home. She wasn't scheduled to fight again until next week and he was thankful for that. This weekend he had to go out to the farm and help his father select horses to show the new potential trading partner. Even though it was one of his favorite things to do because he loved working with the horses, he would have hated to miss one of her fights. He chided himself for becoming obssessed with her, but he couldn't seem to help it. He had never felt like this about any woman before, not that he had that much experience with women. The family business had kept him busy since he finished school, and his mother said that at his age of 20 that he was too young to think about getting into a serious relationship. He had take a few girls out to dinner but that was all, no romance, no sex, nothing.

When he arrived home and walked through the front door his mother called out to him to join her in the sitting room. It had been a few years since the last time he'd been in there with her and he wondered what he had done wrong now. Seeing her smiling at him and pointing to the sofa across from her, he relaxed a little but was still curious as to what she wanted. "You wanted to talk to me about something mother?" he asked casually as he sat down.

Rhianne Martell smiled slightly at her son and then studied him quietly for a while, not quite sure how to bring up the subject that had her concerned. He was long past the age of consent and could certainly do as he pleased, but he had never been a fan of the arena and she wondered why he had spent the last three nights there. "I was wondering if something was bothering you, something that maybe I could help you with?" she finally asked softly.

"Why do you think that something's bothering me?" Jocelyln retorted, shifting a little as he had an inkling what she was getting at and not entirely comfortable with the thought.

"Honey, I know that you never liked what took place in the arena, yet you have gone there the last three evenings," Rhianne said softly. "Even though others have thought it strange that you didn't like to watch the fights, I never did for I know you better than they do. You are too smart to be entertained by such things. You always enjoyed those activities that required more brain than brawn. So, when you start going to a place that I know you have no liking for, I can't help but be concerned as to why."

Jocelyn sighed, wondering how he had ever thought he could keep something like this secret from his mother. He had never been able to fool her while growing up and didn't know why he thought he could do so now. He just wasn't all that sure he could tell her why, because he wasn't sure of it himself. "There's nothing to be concerned about mother, not really," he muttered.

"Not really?" she arched an eyebrow. "That means that there is something bothering you." At his look of chagrin she chuckled, "I'm your mother and mothers can always read between the lines of what their children do and do not say." She paused and waited for him to say something. When he merely sat there in silence she decided to prod him along a little bit. "Your sudden interest in the arena wouldn't have anything to do with this new female gladiator I have been hearing about, would it?"

Jocelyn's eyes snapped up to hers as a gasp of surprise left his lips before he could stop it. "How do you know that?" he asked her, looking at her like she had grown two heads.

Laughing once more at his surprise she shook her head. "You don't get all your brains from your father you know. Several of my friends have been talking about her quite a bit lately, mostly out of jealousy that this woman has peaked the interests of their husbands. From those conversations, I know that she arrived in this city only a little more than a week ago. I also learned that her fights were now being held at night and that you have been at the arena the past three nights. Even a simple person could make the connection dear."

"So what do you want me to say? That I find her interesting? Intriguing?" Jocelyn snapped, feeling defensive about his activities for the first time in years. "If I do, there's nothing wrong with that is there?"

"No, there isn't, but it's just so out of character for you that I was concerened," his mother replied calmly. "However, I'm getting the impression that there is more to this than you are telling me."

She saw him struggling to speak and getting up, walked over to sit beside him. Taking his hand in hers she encouraged him, "Tell me what is wrong, maybe I can help you."

Jocelyn sighed and then closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts so that he wouldn't sound foolish, stupid, or like some lovesick puppy, for he wasn't any of those things. "Yes, I have been going to watch her fight, not because I like the fights themselves, but because I like the way she fights. She is beautiful enough to make any man's head turn, but she is more than just a pretty face. She has the skill of a seasoned fighter, but she is closer to my age. She has the look of the barbarian peoples to her, but even amongst them she would be too young to have that much experience. Also, I found out she is a slave and no matter how barbaric we think they are, those tribes would never sell one of their own into slavery. So, if I rule out that possiblity, then where did she come by her skills and knowledge?"

Rhianne felt her eyes widen as she realized that her son was more fascinated by the puzzle the woman presented to him than the woman himself. Although she could also tell from the tone of his voice that he was quite smitten with her as well. "Maybe she is older than she looks then. After all, you sit in the box above the arena and I doubt you could have gotten a really good look at her. If you saw me from a distance would you guess that I am nearing 50?"

Jocelyn looked at her golden brown hair, just like his own, that had very little in it and at her face that was as smooth and unlined as a woman half her age. Her figure was still trim despite having given birth to three children and she walked with a youthful spring in her step. It wasn't until you looked into her brown eyes that you could tell she was older than she looked, for her eyes held years of knowledge in them. "I see what you mean," he finally said. "From a distance you would look much younger than you are. It would not be until someone was close enough to talk with you that they would know the difference."

"Exactly," she nodded. "So while you think she is your age, she could indeed be much older and as such could have been a gladiator for years. That would account for her skill."

"Maybe, but I just get the feeling that there is more to her than meets the eye," Jocelyn mused thoughtfully. "I guess it's the way she moves about the ring, the fluidity and grace in her body. I would think that someone who has been fighting for years would have suffered injuries at some point. I also know from observing the men at arms that such injuries tend to make a body lose that fluid grace over time. Not only that, she seems to radiate a youthful energy such as that which I have seen amongst the newer and younger men at arms."

"Maybe she has been lucky enough to not be injured in such a way," his mother replied.

"It's not just that mother," Jocelyn looked at her and saw that she was listening intently to him. "She's easily won each fight and yet has seemed uncomfortable with the adulation given by the spectators after each match. I would think that if she has been a gladiator for years that she would enjoy the attention, but she doesn't. Now while I'm sure you could come up with an argument for most things, I think you would agree that, even as a slave, a gladiator would enjoy and even welcome the adulation for it proves their value and worth."

"Are you physically attracted to her son?" she asked and saw him blush and look away. "Do you not think that your physical attraction may be affecting how you perceive her?"

"That's rather a personal question mother," Jocelyn squirmed under her scrutiny. "You shouldn't ask me things like that."

"I'm not trying to embarass you or make you uncomfortable dear," she said soothingly. "I just want to make sure that you are thinking clearly about this, that is all. I know how much a beautiful woman can affect men and like I said before, I have gotten an earful this week about this young woman's charms. You are young still, and if her looks are such that men twice your age are acting like fools over her, how then can I expect that you are not affected in a similar manner?"

"Yes, she is beautiful and I can't deny that I have had some rather vivid dreams of her," he blurted out even as his face heated with embarassment. "However, I still get the impression that she doesn't like being there and wouldn't be fighting if she had any other choice. She also doesn't have the look of a slave about her, at least judging by other slaves I have seen."

"I see," Rhianne said and in fact she did see, quite clearly. Her son felt that this woman was more than she appeared to be and in fact might be in some kind of trouble. Her son had always been a compassionate boy and he had retained that compassion into adulthood. He couldn't stand to see others suffer or hurt and always tried to help in any way he could. "So, you want to find out more about her and her situation and help her if you can."

"Yes, I do," Jocelyn nodded firmly. "Maybe I'll find out that I'm wrong about everything, but I have to try, I have to know for sure."

"Okay then," Rhianne agreed. "If you need my help with any of this don't hesitate to ask for it. I know more people in this city than you do and I will be happy to make enquiries of them on your behalf. Hopefully, no one will be hurt in the process."

"Why do you say that?" Jocelyn puzzled.

"My dear, gladiators are valuable commodities, especially if they win most of the time," Rhianne admonished. "If she is indeed a slave, then that makes her someone's property and not all those who own slaves are kind. Also, if she is as good as you say she is, then that also makes her valuable. It has been my experience that people who own such slaves are not willing to give them up without a fight."

"I promise I will be careful mother," Jocelyn said as he stood up. It was almost time for supper and he still needed to wash and change. "I will not do anything to put the family or the young woman in danger."

"Just keep me posted on your progress son," his mother kissed his cheek and then watched him walk away and head for his room. She knew that he was falling for this woman and she feared that in the end he would have his heart broken by her. But, she couldn't protect him forever and had to let him be the man he was. Sighing, she turned and headed to the kitchen to oversee the cooks' final preparations.

**********

The object of the discussion between Jocelyn and his mother was currently lying on her bed in her tiny room under the arena. Flame was thinking on her fight and wondering why she wasn't more excited about winning than she was. She had pestered her master constantly on their trip here and had finally been told by Cain that she was his slave and that she had been purchased from another man after she had been seriously injured in a previous fight in another city. Cain had implied that she had been a gladiator for a couple of years now and that it was her head injury that had caused her to forget that. She had discussed it with her fellow slaves and they had all agreed that a head wound, if serious enough, could cause memory loss but that usually the person's memory returned at some point. The problem was that she could remember nothing at all about her life before she woke up in one of Cain's cages. Even the others had agreed that it was unusual for memory loss to be that complete. Not only that, but she didn't feel like she was a slave or had been a slave all her life, despite what Cain told her. If what he had told her was true, then shouldn't she feel more elation at winning than she did? Every single one of the other gladiators reveled in the adulation of the crowd when they won and took pride in their achievements, going so far as to brag about how popular they were. Why then was she so different?

"Still wrestling with your conscience about fighting and winning Flame?" an amused voice rumbled from the doorway.

Looking up she saw Sven Jorgenson, aka the Ice Giant, standing in the doorway. He was almost seven feet tall and weighed well over three hundred pounds, his hair was the color of arctic snow and his eyes the icy blue of the frozen rivers of the north. She smiled at him and gestured him inside to join her. One would assume from his looks and his name that he was a savage brute of a man, but she knew that inside he was a gentle and kind hearted soul. When he howled in fury during his fights, his voice made even the hardiest of opponents blanche, but when he spoke quietly with her, his voice was a gentle purr, like that of a big cat.

"Why can't you just accept the fact that you are one of the best fighters here and are deserving of every bit of praise and adulation you receive?" Sven asked as he sat beside her on the bed. He knew that because she couldn't remember her past that she refused to accept her lot in life. What he didn't understand is why she fought against her fate.

"If I was certain in my heart that this is what my life was meant to be, then perhaps I could ignore my memory loss and accept things," Flame answered. "However, I can't help feeling that my life before this was other than what Cain claims it was."

"Does this feeling have something to do with the dreams you keep having every night?" Sven asked softly. He saw her look sharply at him and shrugged. "My room is right next to yours and the walls are pretty thin. I've heard you mumbling and muttering in your sleep every night."

"Maybe, but I can't recall much of those dreams when I am awake so I can't say for sure," she answered. "I keep seeing faces and hearing voices, but everything is muted like I am watching it through a dense fog. I get the impression of fighting and pain and blood, but it is not the same as what I see and experience in the arena. This is darker, more sinister and much worse."

"I wasn't going to say anything, cause I didn't want to make things more difficult for you than they are," Sven began and saw her look curiously at him. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "A couple of times I heard you call out some names and they're not ones I recognize."

"What did you hear?" Flame whispered, her heart beginning to beat harder at the possibility of a clue to her dreams.

"I clearly heard the name Neeshka, and another that sounded like Caswar or something like that," he told her. "I also heard things like, "foolish girl" and "stubborn man" and "watch your back", but it was all jumbled together and made no sense to me. Maybe it will to you."

Flame closed her eyes and focused on the names Sven had given her, desperately trying to recall the faces of the people they belonged to, absolutely positive that they held the key to her past. Try as she might, nothing was coming to her and finally she gave up with a resigned sigh. "Nothing, my memory is still a blank," she said aloud, unable to keep her voice from quivering as tears of frustration began to form in her eyes.

Sven saw the tears and the slump to her shoulders and felt sorry for even saying anything. Gathering her into his arms he held her close and tried to offer her comfort. "Just cause you don't remember anything yet, that don't mean you never will. You know I can't stand to see you cry girl, so please stop. If I'd known you'd get this upset I would have kept my mouth shut."

Flame sniffed and then giggled a little at the disgruntled tone of his voice. "I'm sorry, you're right," she nodded and leaned away from him. "I guess gladiators aren't supposed to cry huh?"

"Only when they get a splinter," Sven smiled and then joined her in laughing at the silly remark. He was glad his little joke had lightened her mood for it really did upset him when she got so down. "Listen, I know that this is hard on you, but you just got to have faith that your memory will come back at some point. Until it does, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't enjoy life as much as possible. You may even find that when they do return that you are indeed a famous gladiator and that what you dream about are the more memorable of your past fights. Your unhappiness with your memory loss may be making your dreams seem darker than they really are."

"Maybe you're right," she nodded, even though deep in her heart she didn't think so. Still, what he said about enjoying her life as it was now didn't seem all that difficult a thing to do.

"Glad you agree cause me and the others are having a little get together tonight to celebrate a good first week here in the city," Sven said jovially. "Since we all have the weekend off, we're going to drink lots of ale and tell tall tales about past adventures."

"How much ale and how tall of a tale?" Flame asked, chuckling at the boyish enthusiasm in his voice.

"Who cares as long as we have a good time," he retorted and stood up, pulling her to her feet as well. "Come on, time waits for no man, or woman, no matter how beautiful she is." As soon as he said the words he groaned and looked worriedly at her, not sure how she would react to that last statement. She had never given him any reason to think she'd welcome his advances, but he still hoped some day to win her heart.

Flame felt the breath catch in her throat at the mixed look of longing and chagrin in his eyes. He hadn't meant to say the words which indicated that they were true. "You think I'm beautiful Sven?" she asked, even as she fingered the faint scar that snaked its way from the top of her left temple to just below her ear. She wore her hair loose when not in the arena for she felt self-conscious about it.

Sven reached up and trailed one finger lightly down her face, tracing the scar she tried to hide all the time. Looking directly down into her eyes, he spoke from his heart. "You are the most beautiful woman I have seen in my entire life, scar and all." Then he slowly lowered his head to hers, ready to pull back if she protested, and was overjoyed when their lips met and she didn't pull away. Gradually he increased the pressure of his mouth against hers and heard a low moan issue from her throat even as her arms twined around his neck. How long they kissed he wasn't sure, but when they finally came up for air, they were both breathing hard. She was looking at him, her eyes unfocused for a moment before they cleared and she stepped back.

Flame put a hand to her lips, staring at Sven, unsure of what to think or even say. She had known that he liked her, but she had never guessed how much, until he kissed her. She saw the worry and longing in his gaze and smiled slightly. "It's okay Sven, I'm just a little surprised is all. I mean, I never realized you felt this way."

"I probably shouldn't have done that, what with you not remembering anything of your past," Sven said softly, looking at his feet. "I mean, you might have a boyfriend or lover somewhere and I wouldn't want to start something with you and have it come back to bite me on the ass later. I just, well, wanted you to know how I felt, just in case, well maybe if.....," his voice trailed off.

Smiling at the embarassment on his face, Flame stepped forward again and placed a hand on his arm, waiting until he raised his eyes to her before speaking. "Weren't you just saying that I should enjoy life and not just sit and wait for my memories to return?" Seeing his nod and the hope lighting his eyes she laughed softly. "Well, I did enjoy that kiss Sven, very much. I wouldn't object to a repeat performance."

Smiling Sven pulled her into his arms and kissed her long and thoroughly before letting her go and taking her hand. "If we don't leave now, we're gonna miss the party and that will upset little Radnor. You know what he can be like when he gets pissed off."

Laughing at the thought of their slight and wiry companion, Flame allowed Sven to lead her from her room. Radnor was the most unique of the gladiators in that he was short and quick. He had been a skilled thief until he got caught and sold off to Cain. For all his slight build, he wasn't to be underestimated in the arena. He was fast, elusive, and tricky and was certainly more than capable of holding his own, even with someone the size of Sven. He had proven that on more than one occasion. He wasn't one to hold a grudge, but he was also not above playing tricks on people as a way of paying them back for slighting him. "I certainly don't want to wake up with a snake, spider or any other such creature in my bed," she snorted.

"I've heard of worse than that," Sven chuckled. "One guy actually woke up crawling in fleas, and even after they got rid of them he couldn't sleep the night through. Kept waking up itching and scrathcing for no reason."

"Ouchies!" Flame cringed at the thought. "Let's hurry then," she said and quickened her step. Laughing and joking they entered the small living area to hails of welcome as mugs of ale were pressed into their hands. The ale did indeed flow freely and the tales were even taller and Flame had a very good time. When she finally collapsed into her bed hours later, she fell asleep instantly and for the first time had no bad dreams. Instead, a certain northern giant figured prominently in her dreams and a smile curved her lips even as she slept.


	11. Chapter 10: The Nobleman of Cormyr

Chapter 10: The Nobleman of Cormyr

Jocelyn Martell sighed as he finished his bath and stepped out of the tub to dry himself off. It had been a rather frustrating week, for his probe into Flame's history and situation had bogged down. He had even gone so far as to pay for an investigator to look into the woman's situation, but as of that moment he had heard nothing of value from the man. He had managed to interview a couple of gladiators about her, but the only thing they could tell him was that Flame belonged to a man named Cain Felgarn. According to the gladiators, this man Cain was a bit of a shady character with a reputation for being willing to do anything to make money. They were all glad they didn't belong to him and felt bad for those fighters who did. Not only that, this Cain fellow kept his gladiators segregated from the rest, not allowing them to socialize. Cain also didn't allow his fighters to have visitors without his approval and Jocelyn's requests for a meeting with him had so far gone unanswered. He was almost on the verge of giving up and resigning himself to never knowing any more about Flame than he did. A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. Looking at himself to make sure he was decent he called out for the person to enter.

"Sorry to disturb you son, but it is almost time for dinner and we musn't be late," Rhianne Martell said as she walked in.

"I'm almost ready mother, just a few finishing touches needed," Jocelyn replied as he turned to the mirror over his dresser. Picking up a comb, he tamed his wavy brown hair as best he could and then looked over his jewelry to determine what would go best with his garments.

Rhianne smiled with pride at how handsome and well dressed her son was. He looked so much like his father when Erik had been that age that she felt a little kernel of nostalgia well inside her. Camel colored wool trousers, silk button down shirt in a chocolate color, topped off with a cream colored lambs wool jacket, all bespoke of wealth without shoving it in your face. Her son wore it well and would definately cut an impressive figure tonight at dinner. "You look every inch the professional businessman you are and your father will be so proud to have you at his side tonight."

Jocelyn smiled at his mother thinking she was perhaps a little prejudiced. "Well, I'm glad you think so," he said quietly. "Let's just hope our dinner guest tonight thinks the same thing."

"Oh he will I have no doubts," his mother smiled. "I know that this is probably the most important meeting you have attended to date, but you know the business and you are quite capable of handling any quesions that might be directed at you. If your father didn't think you were ready for this, he wouldn't have asked you to participate."

"Did father tell you how this whole dinner came about?" Jocelyn turned to face his mother.

"Well apparently that trader from Cormyr knows this gentleman and told him about the horses that we raise," Rhianne answered. "It was just happenstance that the noble was in Waterdeep on other business this week. Of course your father doesn't believe anything ever happens by chance, but it is still quite amazing that it happened at all. I mean, for the trader to be eating dinner at the same restaurant, on the same night as the noble?"

"Yes, I imagine that the odds of that happening are quite slim," Jocelyn chuckled. "However it happened, father is very excited that it did. He's been wanting to expand, but there are many businesses like ours out there and the competition is quite fierce. Getting in touch with someone like Lord Brentwood usually doesn't happen quickly. It can take months or even years for such an event to occur, and even then it usually requires one to build a reputation in the region first."

"Normally it does, but the trader was so impressed with the horses and your father's business acumen that he was all too eager to expound upon his findings to Lord Brentwood," Rhianne smiled as she walked with her son towards the formal dining room. "Apparently, the trader's reputation in Cormyr is quite elevated thus making his word count a great deal."

"Hopefully, Lord Brentwood will be impressed enough to do business with us," Jocelyn said softly, paused just outside the dining room. "The trader says he buys new mounts for his men every few years or so. Even if he doesn't buy right away, he is still well connected and could recommend us to others. We may be able to get a big jump on a foothold in Cormyr. That land is very wealthy and there is much opportunity for us there."

"Yes, and after a few years of that our own reputation will carry us forward into the future," his mother said quietly back. "Come, your father's waiting and our guest should be here soon."

They entered the dining room to find the table set, the servants ready, and Erik Martell standing in front of the fireplace where a large fire was already blazing. Erik smiled with pride as he turned to see his wife and son walk in. Rhianne was still a beautiful woman and Jocelyn was everything a father could want in a son and heir. A man was often judged by not only where he lived and how he kept his home, but also by how he treated his family. A wealthy nobleman such as Lord Brentwood would be scrutinizing everything in order to better judge the person he wished to do business with. Even though he had started his family later in life than most, mainly due to the fact that he had been so picky about choosing a wife, he felt himself blessed to have been lucky enough to find a true love in Rhianne. She was that rare creature that possessed both beauty and brains and had been an invaluable partner both at home and in his business. Despite the fact she had only managed to carry one child to term, she was still the best thing to ever happen to him. What man could complain about having only one son, when the one he did have was handsome, intelligent, and kind. Yes, his home would impress the nobleman, but his family would impress Lord Brentwood even more.

"I hope you are as excited about tonight as I am," Erik said, unable to keep a big smile from his face.

"Very much so father," Jocelyn nodded in agreement. "I have to admit to being nervous about it. I hope I don't do or say anything to ruin this opportunity for you."

"Son, you know the business almost as well as I do," Erik smiled at him reassuringly. "I have no worries about that happening so please try to relax and enjoy the evening. From what Thomas has told me, Lord Brentwood is very down to earth for a noble and we should feel very comfortable with him." At that moment, the butler announced the arrival of their guest and showed him in.

The man who walked in was at least six and a half feet tall, with black hair and light blue eyes. His clothes were well tailored and screamed of understated wealth. His countenance, however, showed none of the usual arrogance Erik had seen in other nobles he had met. Walking forward, Erik held out his hand. "Lord Brentwood, welcome to my home, and thank you for agreeing to dine with us this evening."

"Please, call me by my name, Ashton," Lord Brentwood replied with a smile as he shook Erik's hand. "I've never been one to stand on formality. It does get rather tedious to be addressed by title so often. A man should not be judged by his titles but by his accomplishments. Given that, then from what I have seen and heard so far, you are my equal."

"Allow me to introduce my wife Rhianne and my son Jocelyn," Erik turned and waived them forward. They shook hands all around and then took their seats at the table as the servants began bringing in the food. The conversation during dinner was kept light and they soon discovered that Lord Brentwood was very easy going and most pleasant company. They laughed as he told them some humorous tales of fellow nobles and even tossed out a few of their own. They listened quietly as Lord Brentwood told of his trip from Neverwinter to Waterdeep. They learned that the city itself was never truly threatened, although the tale of the attack on Castle Never caused shivers to run down their spine. The land itself wasn't too badly ravaged although the towns of High Cliff and Fort Locke had been almost completely destroyed.

"It seems that the bulk of the fighting occured around Crossroad Keep," Asthon said. "My party stayed at an inn inside the walls for the night."

"I had heard that the place had been rebuilt by a group of adventurers for the express purpose of fighting the new threat to Neverwinter," Rhianne spoke up.

"Indeed it had and it was a most impressive place," Ashton nodded. "The man in charge, one Sir Darmon, said that the Captain and her companions had left to battle the enemy and had not returned. However, he took me on a tour and told me of all the hard work and effort that had been put into the place. He told me that it was that which had enabled the keep, and the men within it, to withstand a massive assault by the army the enemy had amassed and sent against them." He shook his head as he recalled with amazement what else he had been told. "To look at the place you would have expected that the person responsible for it was of noble blood and experienced in warfare. But according to Sir Darmon, the captain was a commoner from a back water swamp village, with no training in such matters. So it makes what she accomplished even greater, for every man there was completely loyal to her and her cause, and the place is truly a magnificent fortress."

"A commoner?" Erik couldn't hold back his surprise. "I'm surprised that Lord Nasher allowed such a thing. Everyone knows the story of how he treated the last commoner that saved his city all those years ago. That he would put such responsibility and power in the hands of another commoner is strange."

"Well, from what I've heard, Lord Nasher is also not above doing what is necessary to protect his throne," Jocelyn said with a frown. "Of course, it may all be rumor sparked by jealosy too, and I never liked judging people by what others think of them. A story is just that, a story, until you find out if it's true. I somehow doubt that anyone would rule for long if they were indeed as callous as the stories make Lord Nasher out to be."

"Well said young man," Ashton smiled across the table from him. "I met Lord Nasher several years ago when he journeyed to Cormyr. He struck me as a man who worried too much about the fact he came from common roots. I got the impression that he tried harder to keep Neverwinter safe just so no one could say he was unfit. When a person is under that much pressure, they sometimes can come across as uncaring and cold. It is difficult trying to always do what is best for those you are responsible for and he is responsible for an entire nation."

"Indeed, for every decision you make must be in the best interests of everyone," Rhianne spoke up. "There are far too many leaders in this world that use their position to further their own amitions or those of their friends."

"I often wonder if maybe Waterdeep would benefit more from some type of centralized rule," Erik said thoughtfully. "I mean the Lords of Waterdeep do everything possible to protect the city and lands around here, as well as making sure to keep the trade routes open. They convene on any matter that could pose a threat to the city as a whole, but other than that, each lord rules his own holdings. Now, I'm not saying that's a bad thing for it also means we don't have a group of people telling everyone how to run their businesses and that sort of thing. But maybe, if they worked together more on the issues affecting the lives of the commons, they could do more good for the city."

"Unfortunately, Waterdeep is too large and contains too many factions in direct opposition to each other," Ashton pointed out. "They would spend more time arguing over petty differences than working towards a common good. Central rule does not work for every city or land."

"There are pros and cons to every type of government and you could argue for weeks on the subject," Jocelyn pointed out quietly. He didn't want to be rude, but discussing politics bored him and he hoped to gently steer the conversation in a different direction.

"Ha, ha, ha, good point Jocelyn," Ashton laughed. "My father once told me that if I didn't want to get into a heated debate then I should avoid the topics of religion and politics. Neither of which are conducive to good digestion either, I might add."

They all laughed at that and seeing that they had finished eating, Rhianne suggested that they retire to the sitting room for coffee and dessert. Rhianne waived Ashton and Jocelyn towards the two armchairs nearest the fire, while she and Erik took the loveseat between the two. The furniture had been rearranged this evening so that they could all enjoy the roaring fire in the hearth while they conversed about business for a while. Ashton had been impressed by everything he had seen and heard so far tonight and felt now was a good time to tell them. "I must say that I was a little skeptical when Thomas told me about you and your business Erik," he began. He saw the other man look questioningly at him and smiled slightly. "I've known Thomas for years and he is as honest as they come. Usually I have no trouble believing what he tells me, but he was so impressed with you during your meeting earlier this week that he waxed almost poetical while telling me about it. He never talks like that about anyone, not even his closest business associates. I came here tonight with the belief that you had put a spell on him and that I would find things to be totally different. I am glad to see that I was wrong."

Rhianne glanced at her husband and son and saw the non-plussed looks on their faces. After the silence threatened to stretch on she decided to step in. "Given the fact that you are familiar with the way things are run here in Waterdeep, I'm not surprised that you would think such a thing."

"You're right mother," Jocelyn finally found his tongue. "We are all guilty of thinking the wrong things about people based on past experience. Honesty and integrity seem to be hard to find these days."

"I certainly didn't mean to offend you," Ashton spoke up, realizing how his words had sounded to their ears. "I have never had an easy time putting my thoughts into words, which is why I have avoided politics all these years."

"No offense taken," Erik assured him. "Just took me a while to work out what it was you said. It was also surprising to hear how highly Thomas regarded us."

The sound of someway coughing discreetly had them looking to the doorway to find the butler standing there. "Forgive the intrusion, but there is a messenger here for Jocelyn. He is waiting in the foyer."

"Thank you George, tell the man I'll be right there," Jocelyn said and stood up. "Excuse me for a moment," he nodded to his parents and guest and left the room. He hurried to the foyer and his heart skipped a beat as he saw the invesitgator he had hired standing there. "You have discovered something new?" he asked as he came up, not quite able to hide the hope in his voice.

"Yes, but I'm not sure if it's good news," the man said quietly. "I overheard a conversation tonight that I thought you might want to know about. Apparently Roger Blackwell is making inquiries into purchasing the gladiator Flame. Blackwell has an even more unsavory reputation than Felgarn. Whatever his plans are for the woman they can't be anything good."

"How accurate is this information?" Jocelyn asked, worry creeping through him. He had heard rumors of dark deeds perpetrated by Blackwell and there were far too many for there not to be some truth to them.

"Well, I don't know yet," the man replied. "I know we had agreed that my services were no longer needed, but if you wish me to continue to look into this I will."

"Yes, of course, please do," Jocelyn nodded as he reach to his small money purse he always had on him. "Here is a bonus for bringing me this news," he handed the man five gold pieces. "I will pay you the same as I did for this past week. Just find out all you can about Blackwell and his plans." He saw the man out and there returned to the sitting room, pausing outside the door to regain his composure. He felt uneasy about what he just learned, but it wouldn't be right to concern their guest with it. He entered just as Lord Brentwood was praising his father on his fine family, and felt embarassment heat his face.

"I have to say that I envy you Erik," Ashton was saying. "You have a beautiful, a lovely and charming wife, and a son that any man would be proud to call his own."

"You don't have a family waiting for you?" Rhianne asked softly and saw a flash of pain in Ashton's eyes.

"No, not anymore," Ashton answered quietly. "My wife and son were visiting a cousin of hers in Neverwinter when the plague struck that city. Due to the fact that they were in Blacklake, they were not concerned when a quarantine was raised and they were unable to leave the city. The noble's district seemed to be unaffected by it at first, but eventually the plague did spread there. By the time a cure was found it was too late and they both died."

Jocelyn had seen the same flash of pain in the man's eyes, but the tone of his voice didn't seem to match. "You don't sound as upset as I thought you would be over their loss. Do you have other children?"

Ashton regarded the young man with some suprise at how perceptive he was. "Not that I know of for sure, and no I am not very upset over their loss as I should be I suppose." He saw the confusion on their faces and decided to elaborate, feeling that he could trust them with something very few people knew about. "You see, I never really loved my wife. I cared for her and I did love my son at one point, but that is all. When I was about your age Jocelyn, I met a most wonderful and beautiful woman and fell in love with her. However, she wasn't exactly welcome in my parents home so we kept our relationship quiet. She was a bard and an adventurer, not exactly the type considered suitable for a noble. Still, we made time for each other and as our love grew so did our desire to be open and honest about our relationship. One day she came to me and told me she was pregnant. Despite the precautions we had taken, it still happened, and I felt it was a sign from the gods that we belonged together. I made the decision then and there that I would marry her, my parents feelings be damned. We made plans and I was so happy and excited for I was about to have everything a man could want. A beautiful and intelligent woman who loved me and I was going to be a father as well. Then one day, she failed to meet me for a planned rendezvous. I waited for almost two hours before deciding that something must have come up. So I went home, figuring she would contact me. When another whole day passed with no sign of or word from her, I began to worry that something had happened and started a search. No one I spoke with had seen her or knew where she was. I became frantic to find her and stopped eating or sleeping. Then a couple of days later my father came to me and told me that she had left. He told me all she had ever been interested in was my money and had extorted payment from them because she was pregnant. I refused to believe him, but after another week had passed, I resigned myself to the fact that she was gone from my life."

"Do you think that your parents paid her off or that she never really loved you?" Jocelyln asked.

"I have no doubt she loved me and I her," Ashton said firmlly, his eyes glinting with anger. "I had no proof of it, but I strongly suspect that my father threatened her forcing her to leave. I was furious and devestated for several weeks and then I started to get my life back together. Behind my parents back, I hired an investigator to try to discover her whereabouts but he never turned up anything. The love of my life was gone and I knew I would have to move on with my life."

"Is this when the woman who eventually became your wife came into the picture?" Rhianne asked.

"Yes," Ashton nodded. "My father decided two months was long enough to mope over my loss and arranged for a party, inviting the many eligable and, in his eyes, suitable young women from the lands round about. That was where I met Julia, my future wife. She was very beautiful and charming, and she also had a head on her shoulders and knew quite a bit about what was going on in the world around us. We started seeing each other and I was happy enough to be with her. She seemed so sweet and innocent and genuinely interested in me as a person. After six months and a good deal of badgering from her parents and mine, I proposed to her. It wasn't until our wedding night that I discovered she wasn't as innocent as she seemed."

"Ouch," Erik winced, knowing how shocking that must have been.

"Yes, I was hurt at first but I believed her when she said she loved me and would always be true to me," Ashton sighed. "Knowing I was not the first was disappointing, but she wasn't a bad person and I cared for her enough to forgive her. Anyway, about six months after the wedding she got with child and I was so happy about being a father again that I forgot about our wedding night. The first few years with my son were so wonderful that I was blind to anything else. I didn't realize until Kevin was eight years old that my wife was having an affair with another man."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, it must have been painful to make such a discovery," Rhianne sympathized.

"It was even more painful to discover that the man was a blacksmith, a commoner, that Julia had been in love with since she was fourteen," Ashton shook his head. "It seems both our parents were of like minds and cared nothing for the fact that we loved other people. Those not of noble blood were considered beneath them and not suitable. Julia broke down and cried as she told me how her parents threatened to disown her and throw her out of the house if she didn't stop seeing the man she loved. At sixteen, she would have been unable to survive on her own and the boy was only seventeen at the time, still learning his trade, and unable to provide for them."

"Sounds to me like you were both victims of your parents bigotry," Erik interjected.

"Yes and that is one of the reasons I didn't divorce her," Ashton nodded. "She had had as little choice as I in the matter and she wasn't a bad person. Not only that she was the mother of my son and I didn't want to deny him her presence. Unfortunately, the early promise Kevin showed faded away rather quickly. He was more interested in having fun and buying expensive clothes and shoes than in learning how to handle the family finances. When Kevin was fourteen, my father passed away due to complications with his heart, and I inherited everything. Julia knew that I was disappointed that our son showed no ability or desire to manage the wealth we had. It was she who suggested taking him to Neverwinter to stay with her cousin. Her cousin was married to one of Lord Nasher's knights, one who had a reputation for being able to train and discipline even the most stubborn and unruly of boys. We both agreed that if he could be convinced to take Kevin on as a squire that it might just help the boy to grow up a little and become more responsible. So, they left and when word of the plague reached me I feared the worst and it came true. After their deaths I saw no reason to remarry for I was still in love with Esmerelle and I always will be."

"Esmerelle is the bard you fell in love with?" Jocelyn asked and saw him nod. "That is a very beautiful and unusual name. I'm surprised that you were unable to discover her whereabouts."

"Son, the lands of Faerun are vast and most traveling bards are not know by their names unless their fame is very great," Erik said. "With no idea of where she might have gone, it would be very difficult to know in which direction to look."

"He's right," Ashton sighed. "The man I hired managed to follow her winding trail to Neverwinter but no further. It was like she disappeared into thin air. I just hope that some day I will learn of her fate and the fate of our child."

"What was Esmerelle like?" Rhianne asked with a smile. "You said she was a bard but what kind of person was she?"

"She had a voice that would put a nightingale to shame and a smile that rivaled the sun for its brilliance," Ashton answered softly, his eyes misting at the memory. "She had a wonderful sense of humor and could always find the bright side of even the darkest things. She was only about five and a half feet tall, but she had a heart bigger than a giant's. Her most striking features were her brilliant, ruby colored hair and emerald green eyes." He paused as Jocelyn gasped in shock and jumped to his feet. "What?" he asked in suprise.

"How common is such coloring do you think?" Jocelyn asked, barely daring to believe what he was thinking was possible.

"Not common at all, I assure you," Ashton replied. "It was what made her stand out and caught my attention in the first place. What kept me coming back was her intelligence and sense of humor. Why do you ask?"

"Because I know of a young woman with the same color hair and eyes," Jocelyn said firmly and saw his mother's mouth drop open as she made the connection.

"That gladiator everyone is talking about, that is who you mean," Rhianne said aloud. "The young woman they call Flame because of her hair."

Jocelyn nodded and said excitedly, "She woud be about the right age and she has the same color hair and eyes."

Ashton got to his feet staring at the boy, his heart pounding in his chest at the possiblity. Before his emotions could get the better of him, he took several deep breaths to calm down. Just because this woman had the same coloring and was about the right age didn't mean she was his child. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," he said in caution. "Just because the color is not very common, it does not mean that she is Esmerelle's child. I would have to look into her background and speak with the young woman first before saying anything."

"Well, that is something I have been trying to do since she came to the city a couple of weeks ago," Jocelyn said, his frustration over his lack of success coloring his voice. "I was told she was a slave but didn't really believe it and so I began to look into her situation more. The only thing I have been able to find out is that she is owned by a man named Cain Felgarn. I just recently found out that another man has been asking about her, a man I don't want to see her fall into the hands of for he has a bad reputation."

"Is that what the messenger came to see you about?" Erik asked him.

"Yes, it was the man I hired to help me," Jocelyn nodded. "He is going to continue to try and see what he can find out, but I don't know if he'll have any more luck this time around."

"Well, where you may have difficults gathering information, I may not," Ashton spoke up. "I am well connected and have many influential friends in this city. My standing amongst them may open doors that are closed to you. Is there a way that I could see this young woman?"

"Well, she has another match tomorrow night and I have tickets so you would certainly be able to see her then," Jocelyn told him. "As for other than that, I didn't have much luck in that area either. This Cain fellow has a very strict visitor policy and it's almost impossible to get in to see his fighters."

Ashton smiled a cold smile and laughed darkly. "If I know anything about slavers such as Cain, then money and power are very strong inducements for getting them to agree to certain requests. I am not above using my power and money to coerce or threaten when the cause is a just one. I will see her and talk with her, have no doubts about that. If there is any chance she is my daughter, then I have to do everything in my power to help her. I owe it to her, myself and her mother."

"I wonder now if it was fate that brought you to this city at this particular time," Rhianne mused softly. "It is either that or a very strong coincidence."

"I have always believed that nothing ever happens by chance, so I think it must be fate," Erik said with a smile.

"As do I father," Jocelyn smiled and then turned to Lord Brentwood. "I have always believed that all wrongs will be made right in the end, no matter how long it takes. You were seperated from your true love through no fault of your own. Now, you may just be about to find the long lost child you never knew. I don't think that it has all happened by chance."

"I will caution again," Ashton repeated. "Don't get your hopes up. She may not be anything other than what she is: a slave and a gladiator. We don't know and if it turns out that we are wrong in our assumptions, the let down will be worse for us. We will have to wait and see. But, if she is my daughter, then nothing will stop me from being a part of her life and seeing to it that she knows she has a home to call her own."

"It is getting late, and even though we are probably too excited to sleep just now, we should at least make the attempt," Rhianne broke in. "If you would like to spend the night here, we do have an extra room you can use Ashton."

"Thank you for the offer, I gladly accept it," he bowed slightly to her.

Nodding she asked Jocelyn to show Ashton upstairs and then accompanied her husband to their bedroom. She felt very sad for all that Lord Brentwood had suffered in his life and she truly hoped that this young woman Flame was his daughter. She could only imagine how wonderful it would be for them if it turned out to be true. She had been fortunate to find love and not lose it like Ashton had. Tomorrow would bring them one step closer to the truth.


	12. Chapter 11: Truth and Lies

Chapter 11: Truth and Lies

Flame stretched her legs out from the bench she was sitting on, near the far wall of the arena common room, watching the small troup of entertainers as they sang and danced. The owners of the arena and the gladiators masters were pleased with the success of their current fighters, and thus had arranged for a night of revelry and entertainment. Even though Cain usually kept his fighters from such things, this one time he had agreed to allow his gladiators to participate. He would have seemed churlish otherwise. So, here she was, sitting with Sven, and having the best time drinking and joking with those around her. There were also some courtesans and male prostitutes provided for those fighters who wished to partake in more sensual forms of entertainment. Currently, a rather beautiful young man was performing a sexy dance for them and she had to admit her interest was peaked.

"You're looking at him like you want to eat him little Flame," Sven's low voice murmured in her ear, amusement clear in every word.

"Aye, he is a pretty little thing," Flame chuckled herself, the wine she was consuming making her feel happy and relaxed, almost giddy even. "Unfortunately, I think he's a little too delicate for me. I could crush him without meaning to. I think I'm better off with someone more my size," she replied, raking her emerald gaze up and down Sven's body.

Sven drew in a sharp breath, his eyes heating with lust at the way she was looking at him. "Is that an offer little one?"

Flame chuckled huskily, "Perhaps." She wasn't sure what kind of wine she was drinking, but it definately was loosening her tongue and igniting her passion for the blond giant. Her attention was diverted by a sudden shout. Turning her head she saw Radnor angrily push the young male dancer away from one of the gladiators.

"Go tease someone else _gatha_," Radnor snarled as he stood between the boy and the gladiator known only as The Bull. No one could remember what the man's real name was. The Bull was a huge mountain of a man and was one of the premier fighters in the arena. Consequently, he was always attracting the attention of those around him, male and female.

The Bull wrapped his arms around Radnor and pulled the smaller man down onto his lap with a loud laugh. "Easy little tiger, you have no cause to be jealous," he rumbled.

Radnor huffed and then nuzzled the neck of the bigger man. "I will tear the heart out of anyone who tries to take you from me," he said fiercely. This was no idle threat, for Radnor was an exceptionally quick and ruthless opponent when angered, giving no quarter and rarely showing mercy. His success in the arena was on par with Flame's and Sven's, despite his slight build.

Flame laughed at the antics of the two, completely at ease with the idea of them as a couple now. That hadn't always been the case, for she had never seen two men in a relationship before, at least not that she could recall. When she had first witnessed the two men locked in a passionate embrace she had been shocked beyond words. She had never imagined that two men, or two women for that matter, could have a relationship in the same way as a man and a woman. Sven had told her it was a rare thing to see, but that it did happen quite often. It was hard to fathom, but the more she saw Radnor and The Bull together, the more comfortable she had become with the idea. Even she could see that they had something special going and now she wished them all the happiness in the world.

The party had been going on for a few hours now and passions were beginning to rise, leading to some arguments and near fights. Those were quickly broken up before they got out of hand, for the owners had stated plainly that the festivities would end if the gladiators started fighting amongst themselves. A raucous cheer caught Flame's attention and she turned to see one of the female whores being pushed down onto a table as her clothing was torn from her body. Several fighters stood around her cheering and hooting as the woman writhed like an eel on the table, her hands running over her generous curves as she spread her legs invitingly. A muscled fighter by the name of Kyle was loosening the ties to his breeches as he gazed lustfully at the wanton display before him. Flame watched with open mouth and wide eyes as Kyle freed his manhood and then grabbed the woman's feet, dragging her to the edge of the table. With a growl, he thrust viciously into the woman, who arched her back and screamed in pleasure as the other fighters cheered Kyle on. The whole display served to make Flame's body pulse and throb and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to grab Sven's hand and drag him to her room. She was unaware that her hands had moved to caress her own breasts as she watched, but Sven wasn't.

Sven had been watching Flame and Radnor while this was going on. When Bull picked Radnor up and strode quickly from the room, Sven knew where they were going and turned his attention to Flame, his thoughts travelling along the same path. Seeing her eyes focused unblinking on the sexual performance playing out in front of them, he felt his own lust stir to the boiling point. Moving behind Flame, he wrapped his arms around her and cupped her breasts in his large hands, burying his face in her neck and nibbling at her shoulder. Hearing her moan and feeling her body wiggle against him, he could wait no longer to have her. "What say we take this somewhere private little one?" he whispered in her ear before nibbling on the lobe. When she whispered her consent, he scooped her into his arms and strode from the common room.

Flame revelled in the feel of the powerful arms encircling her, moving her lips to nibble at Sven's neck. She wanted him with a passion and she was willing putty in his hands. When they reached her small room, she felt herself dropped roughly to her pallet and her breath left her in a rush. She gazed up at Sven as he practically tore his clothes off, her eyes raking over the well muscled arms and chest. Despite his obvious arousal and his immense strength, she felt no fear that he would hurt her. It was only in the ring that he was to be feared. Even if it wasn't, her strength and desire for Sven was more than a match for him and she had no fear.

Sven knew that it was mostly the wine that was fueling Flame's passion this night, and he could never forget that she might have someone in her past that she simply couldn't remember. However, he loved and desired her desperately and he wanted this one night with her. He tossed the last of his clothing to the floor, and with a low growl, he reached for her shirt and tore it from her body. His heated gaze devoured the sight of her generous and upturned breasts even as his hands impatiently loosened the ties to her leggings. Pushing them over her hips, he tore them from her as well, taking her slippers with them. Finally, Flame lay naked before him in all her glory. Her rich, red hair spread like living fire all around her, and the sweat on her body glistened like sparkling diamonds. She was magnificent and his desire for her grew to painful intensity. Tonight there would be no gentle words or soft caresses, only the heat of two bodies straining together in passion's dance.

Flame opened her arms and spread her legs, silently inviting her blond giant to join her. His movement was sudden as he threw himself atop her and then stole her breath in a fierce kiss. She moaned as his hands roughly caressed and kneeded the flesh of her breasts, his hardness pressing into her belly causing her womanhood to pulse in anticipation of the pleasure to come. She gasped loudly into Sven's mouth as she felt his hands grab her legs and place them over his shoulders. The feel of his fingers plunging into her molten depths caused her back to arch as a cry of pleasure issued from her lips. When he grabbed her hips and thrust inside her she screamed at the intense pleasure that raced like lightening through her body. Locking her arms around his neck, she met his thrusts with fierce ones of her own, moaning at the onslaught. Fiercely the clutched at each other, their bodies dripping with sweat as they strained against the other. All thoughts fled her mind as her senses took over. Each grunt and groan seemed magnified as Sven worked her to a frenzy. The fires burned too hot for them to last and soon Flame shrieked her release, her mind going blank as her intense orgasm flooded her entire being.

Sven felt her muscles clench and heard her scream as she reached completion and let himself go. With a primal roar of passion and possession, he loosed a torrent of hot seed within her welcoming body, the pleasure so intense it was almost spiritual. Never had he reached passion's peak so quickly or felt so fulfilled as he did at this very moment. He knew that it was the love he felt for her that made the difference. His body shuddered and his hips stuttered in a last few desultory thrusts before he finally stilled. Rolling to the side he gathered Flame to his body and held her close to his heart. Her pliant limbs and heavy breathing let him know that she had succomb to her body's need for sleep. His own eyes started to close but were jerked wide open at a faint whisper from the woman in his arms. He clearly heard her say 'Nevalle' and he felt his heart nearly stop beating. Not his name, but someone else's. Her mind may not recall her past when awake, but clearly her subconscious did. Sadness and pain wracked his body and it was all he could do to keep the tears that threatened at bay. For one brief moment he was insanely jealous of this mysterious Nevalle, but only for a moment. Whoever he was, he was not in her life anymore and might not ever be again. If Flame never regained her memory, then she would have to make a new life for herself. That life would include him, he vowed to himself. He had finally found the woman of his dreams and he would not give her up without a fight, although how he would fight a ghost he didn't know. He was roused from his thoughts as she stirred in his arms.

"Mmm, sorry Sven, I'm so sleepy," Flame whispered as she nuzzled closer to him. "That was wonderful, you're wonderful," she whispered.

"Shh little one, go to sleep," Sven said softly, hiding the pain in his voice. He softly stroked her back and arms and felt her body relax once more. "I love you Flame," he whispered even though he knew she wouldn't hear him. Sighing, he closed his eyes and joined her in slumber.

*********

Two weary travellers sat at a table in the seedy tavern and silently sipped their ales while listening to the talk of the patrons around them. Both were in travel stained, non-descript clothes that had seen better days. One, an elf, appeared to be lost in his own thoughts, but was in reality alert to any potential clues to help them in their mission. The other, a fair-haired man with a few days growth of stubble, stared morosely into his mug. The journey to Waterdeep had been long but uneventful, and now that they were here their mission seemed to be stagnating. This was the second day they had sat at this one table in this run down tavern and they had yet to hear anything of importance.

Nevalle's emotions had run the gamut from obssession to despondancy all during the trip to Waterdeep. He didn't know what he had expected, but he certainly hadn't given much thought to how they would proceed once they reached the city. His thoughts had been consumed by the memories of his time with Ashara and by knowledge of all the rules and regulations he was breaking by coming here. He would most certainly be stripped of his rank as Captain of the Nine, and possibly even of his titles and holdings. Even though he knew that Ashara would not care if he was rich or poor, noble or beggar, his family would. Would they be disappointed in or condemning of his choice to defy Nasher all for the love of a woman who might be dead? He had been so certain that he was doing the right thing and that his family would be happy that he had found love when he began this journey. But the silence of his travelling companion had left him to struggle with his thoughts and now that certainty was gone.

"Stop torturing yourself with thoughts of matters beyond your reach or control Nevalle," Daeghun's quiet voice penetrated the fog of despair that had slowly been creeping up on him.

"How can I do that when I have nothing else to focus on?" Nevall retorted, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "We have been sitting here hoping to hear something, anything, to point us in the right direction, and still have gleaned nothing useful."

"You can focus on the good times you have spent with my daughter," Daeghun said softly. "You can also try to think of any other places we might go or people we might contact."

"I have not been to Waterdeep in so long that I no longer know whom I could contact," Nevalle muttered. "As for other places, this is the only one I know of within the city where we might hear rumors of strange happenings. You told me that, in your experience, if we wanted to hear anything other than mere gossip, that we would be better off staking out a place where smugglers, pirates and other low lifes frequent. This place is the only one that fits the bill. The owners never even bothered to give it a proper name, merely called it The Pub."

Daeghun sat in silence, staring thoughtfully at the former knight as he slumped once more in his chair. He had watched the man struggle with his thoughts and fight the demons of his conscience all through their journey. He had listened closely to the muttered words that issued from the man's mouth as dreams and nightmares plagued his sleep in the hopes of hearing something to help their search. He knew that Nevalle would not find peace until they found Ashara, but they were no closer to that now than when their journey had begun. He could only watch and hope that Nevalle would be able to hold it together long enough to complete their mission. One wrong word, one misstep, and they could find themselves in a world of trouble, something to be avoided at all costs. The last thing they needed was to run afoul of the Watch or any of the numerous factions that controlled Waterdeep. His thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the tavern door banging open to admit a small group of rough looking men. The smell of fish and brine that wafted towards him told Daeghun that they were sailors and a disreputable bunch at that.

"Oy Harold, pour some of that swill ye call ale for me mates here, but get me a bottle of brandy," the lead sailor boomed out.

"Argh, Foster you scurvy dog, what brings ye to me humble place this night?" the barkeep barked back even as he filled the order. "Last time ye was here, ye said ya was all shippin' out."

"Gods be damned ship sprung a leak two days out, had to turn back," Foster growled. "Blackwell was supposed to have his high and might master shipwright go over the damned thing. Cheapskate, two-bit, whoremaster musta screwed up and forgot."

"Foster, don't ye be saying shit like that," one of the smaller sailors hissed. "Blackwell, he ain't one ye wants to cross or piss off. He's got a rep for some dark dealings."

"Bergin ye wimp," Foster sneered. "He don't scare me none. Tis nuthin' but rumors ye hear. The man don't let nuthin hurt his businesses and I be his best cap'n."

"Best or no', there be plenty others in the city he can get to replace ye," Bergin snapped back but was waived off.

"The man don' give two coppers what others think of him," Foster said firmly. "Long as ye do yer job, ye got nuthin' to be worryin' about."

"Our sudden return to the city may prove that lady luck is on our side," a low, silky voice broke quietly into the conversation.

Daeghun felt a shiver run down his spine as the voice reached his ears. Something in the tone warned him of extreme danger, and with a slight tilt of his head he managed to get a glimpse of the owner. The voice belonge to a short, dark man dressed all in black with a cloak wrapped about him. His casual stance belied the deadly nature of his person and Daeghun rightly guessed the man was an assassin and a spy.

"Damn Zarkan, why ya gotta be sneakin' up on us all the time, eh?" Foster growled and was met with a cold stare. As usual, Zarkan ignored him and continued on as if he had never been interrupted.

"I heard that Blackwell is looking to make a deal on a particularly fine piece of female flesh," the small man continued. "Of such value is this creature that I heard he plans to spirit her out of the city as soon as he acquires her. I imagine that he will pay handsomely the person who manages such a thing."

"What maggot got in yer brain? There ain't been no fine females in the city for months ya daft bugger," Foster snickered.

"Seeing as how you were never one to attend the games in the arena, I'm not surprised you don't have a clue," Zarkan sneered disdainfully. "A little over three weeks ago Cain Felgarn arrived in the city with some new fighters in tow. One of them happened to be a particular beautiful and skilled barbarian who has since made quite the name for herself."

"Ha, even I heard rumors about her," Harold chuckled. "Heard so much it got's to where I had to go see myself wha' the fuss was about."

"As if you could afford tickets to the arena," Zarkan sneered contemptously.

"Nah, don't have ta pay to see a fight," Harold laughed. "Not if ya knows someone with access to a roof right next to the place. 'Course, could'na see too good what's what, but see her fight I did. She was something, she was. Tall, long legs, curves in all the right spots, and wielding this huge sword like it was a toothpick. All the people chanting her name, "Flame, Flame" and cheering when she won. Quite the show, I tell ya."

"At any rate, she became the most popular fighter in recent weeks, and not just because of her fighting abilities," Zarkan interrupted the barkeep. "From what I heard, she has half the men in the city lusting after her, and all the women hating her with a passion. Rumor has it that she has the kind of beauty worth killing for, exactly the type of woman that would interest Blackwell."

"Yeah, but what he'd be interested in her for, eh?" Bergin muttered.

Foster shot Bergin a dirty look that plainly told him to keep his opinions to himself, before fixing his attention back on Zarkan. "Is this just guessing on yer part, or do ya know for sure what Blackwell's gonna do?"

Zarkan smiled slightly, a cold smile that never reached his eyes, one that made you shiver just to see it. "Blackwell wants to see you tonight. He sent his men to the boat and they told me to find you in whatever hole you were hiding in and get your ass up to the manor on the double." He saw the grimace Foster tried to hide and smirked inwardly at the knowledge the pirate captain was mad he wasn't going to be able to drown himself in brandy that night. "I guess you'll be able to bitch at him about not getting the ship fixed properly when you see him," he added snidely.

Foster paled, belying his earlier boast about Blackwell not caring what other people thought. Truth was, the man was a bit of an odd duck in that one could never predict what would set him off. Blackwell was a scary person when mad, capable of almost any atrocity. "Well, best not keep the man waiting eh?" he said, forcing his voice to be cheery and not fooling anyone.

"No, I think it would be better that you didn't," Zarkan said quietly. He had once been on the receiving end of one of Blackwell's rages. It had left him with permanent scars across his back and chest. No, it was not wise to test the man's patience. Dropping some coins on the bartop, he nodded at the bartender before following Foster and the others out the door.

"I didn't like the sounds of that Daeghun," Nevalle said softly. "Whoever this Blackwell is, he certainly doesn't sound like the kind of person you'd want to get their hands on you. Perhaps we should see if there's anything we can do to help this woman he's after."

"That is not our concern Nevalle," Daeghun said firmly. "You cannot save everyone, no matter how much you might wish otherwise. You need to focus on saving the woman you love, my daughter, before you even think about trying to rescue this unknown woman." He saw Nevalle struggling with the idea of leaving the poor woman to her fate. "I know this will not help ease your conscience very much, but the woman is a gladiator. That means that she is more than capable of holding her own against an opponent and most likely has friends inside the arena who can help her."

Nevalle clenched his teeth once, then took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them and turned to look at Daeghun he could see the worry and concern the elf had and felt guilty that he was the cause. "You're right, I'm sorry, it's just," he stopped himself and took another deep breath. "It looks like we're not going to have any better luck tonight than we did last night," he said, changing the subject in an effort to ease the tension of the moment.

"No, I believe that you are correct in that observation," Daeghun sighed and downed the last of his ale. As he was digging into his pouch for coin to pay for their drinks, he overhead two men talking and what they were saying caught his interest.

"See, it's like I told you," a short, stocky man whispered. "Blackwell's got it in his mind to have that new gladiator Flame and I shudder to think what he will do to her if he does get his hands on her. I remember that pretty little baron's daughter two years ago that fell afoul of him. She up and disappeared and somehow no one ever connected him to it. I heard she was found in a whorehouse in Amn a few months later, out of her mind on glitter dust and nothing more than skin and bones. You know as well as I do that the place was a front for some of Blackwell's businesses. But, no one could prove he had anything to do with her being there and so he got away with it."

"Well, the man who employs me has powerful connections of his own and he is determined to see that this woman doesn't end up in Blackwell's hands," the other man at the table stated. Seeing his companion was about to ask who his mysterious employer was, he quickly held up a hand to stop the words. "It's better that you don't know any more than what I've told you already. This woman Flame has stirred up all kinds of interest and it wouldn't be too healthy to get too deep into the matter if you don't have to. Catch my drift?"

The shorter man swallowed hard and nodded, "Yeah, I get it. But what makes her so special? It's not like there haven't been other hot female fighters before in the arena."

"There's never been one of her stature before," his companion retorted. "I managed to get a good look at her and never have I seen a more perfectly formed or beautiful woman in my life. If a barbarian goddess were to ever take mortal form, she would look like Flame. Tall, long legged, stronger than her build would suggest. She wields this magnificent greatsword with the ease of long practice. She's so young, I doubt much more than twenty, but she fights like a veteran of forty or more years. She has the most gorgeous emerald green eyes, and combine that with her magnificent red hair and cat like grace," he took a deep breath. "She is a vision that could stir even a saint to have impure thoughts, and as you know there are far more sinners than saints in Waterdeep."

At their table, both Nevalle and Daeghun were sitting stiff and straight, not quite believing what their ears were hearing. Looking at each other, they saw fear and hope reflected in each others' eyes. Had they finally found what they were seeking? Nevalle made as if to stand but was stopped by Daeghun's hand on his arm, the elf's grip like iron.

"No, not here, there is too much danger," Daeghun said softly. "When he leaves we will follow him and if we see an opportunity to speak to him alone we will do so. Otherwise, we will just tail him and see where it takes us." Getting to his feet he said quietly but clearly, "I need to take care of personal business, I shall return shortly."

Nevalle nodded and then relaxed back into his chair, fixing his gaze once again upon his drink. Daeghun was going to wait outside for the men to leave and all he had to do was be patient and then leave after them. He was so close to finding the truth that he could almost taste it. The waiting was going to kill him, he knew it, but Daeghun was right. This tavern was the worst place for a confrontation, of any kind. They couldn't very well help Ashara if they got into a fight and were injured. Fortunately for his nerves, their quarry seemed just about ready to leave. He watched as first the short man left and then a few minutes later the other guy left as well. As casually as possible, he got to his feet, pretending to sway a bit and then dropped a couple of coppers onto the table. Then, pretending to not be too steady on his feet, he shuffled toward the door, watching out of the corners of his eyes to see if anyone seemed to look at him suspiciously, but no one appeared to be doing so. Stepping outside the tavern, he breathed deep of the night air. Granted no city smelled that great, but the air outside was a hundred times better than the air inside the little crap tavern they had been in. Hearing a bird call he hurried in the direction it came from and saw Daeghun standing in the shadows of the alley between the tavern and the building next door, the elf's gaze fixed on the retreating figure of their quarry.

"Do not follow me too closely and keep your eyes open for any potential trouble," Daeghun murmured. "I will keep our target in sight and alert you like this," he brushed the back of his ear with his hand, "if I see an opportunity to corner the man for a private conversation. Agreed?"

"Sounds good," Nevalle nodded. "You have the better eyesight after all."

"Yes I do," Daeghun nodded. "Let us move and quickly." With that the elf began to follow their quarry at a measured pace, his elven eyesight enabling him to stay far enough back and yet still see every move made by the man. Hopefully, the trail would eventually lead to Ashara.

Nevalle counted to five and then began to follow in Daeghun's footsteps, trying to keep his eyes and ears focused on the area around them. It was harder than he thought because of the feelings that had been stirred up inside of him at the prospect of finally getting some answers. He kept telling himself not to get his hopes up, that all this could lead to a dead end. But, the description of this woman Flame was so close to that of Ashara that it was hard not to be optimistic. After all, he had never met a woman before or after Ashara that had her color hair and eyes. But more than that, how many women could there be that matched not only the coloring but the height and skill with a sword as well? Taking it further, he thought of the scrying done that said the answers he sought would be found in Waterdeep or somewhere close by. Put that together with Ashara's rare coloring and it was impossible to dismiss the notion that Flame and Ashara were one and the same. Then a disquieting thought crept into his head. If the woman was Ashara, why was she fighting in the arena? Surely she would have made some attempt to alert those in authority of who she was. The possible explanations were unsettling and he firmly pushed them out of his mind. The man they were following had the answer, or at the very least would lead them to someone who could tell them what they wanted to know. Keeping that thought in mind, he managed to maintain his focus and keep his hopes up. Silently, he followed the elf following the man that held the key to his future.


	13. Chapter 12: We Meet Again

Chapter 12: We Meet Again

"Where in the Hells did they all come from?" Elma shouted as she thrust her short sword into the gut of a particularly ugly bugbear. The monsters seemed to be everywhere at once and she was dodging and moving, barely avoided getting skewered herself.

"How should I know?" Brago shouted in return before singing another buffing song. "I don't have the answer for everything you know."

"That's not what you always tell me," Elma shouted back.

"Will ya shut up and fight," Khelgar roared. "Don't matter none where they came from, they're gonna surround us!" He was breathing harder than he normally would during battle, still not having fully recovered the strength he had before the nasty portal incident.

The three of them had been only about ten miles from Waterdeep when they stumbled upon a small band of bugbears and goblins which promptly attacked them. Of course, the three had not worried about such a small group, for they had each faced bigger and worse in their travels. However, just as they thought they would be victorious, one of the goblins had raised a horn to his lips. Elma had not been able to cut its throat before it blew a call. Within minutes, more bugbears had appeared on the scene accompanied by a couple of trolls. As if that wasn't bad enough, more had begun to arrive and this larger group had a couple of ogres as well. All in all, about thirty or so new arrivals had joined in the fray. For every one of the beasts they killed, two took its place, and now things were beginning to look very grim for them.

"I think this is the end of our adventures," Brago panted as he slashed the thigh of a goblin and watched it go down with a howl of pain, its leg gushing fresh blood onto the already soaked ground. He couldn't help but wonder where all the famed patrols of Waterdeep were at the moment. Perhaps as was true with most legends the reality fell far short. They sure could use the help at this point for they were rapidly being surrounded.

Elma was about to say not to give up and then saw what he had. They were now surrounded on all sides, with nowhere to run to. It looked to be the end indeed. Praying to Arvoreen to give her strength, she attempted to rally her companions. "I will not go down without a fight! Let's take as many of them with us as we can."

"I'm with you!" Khelgar growled his agreement. "I have no desire to become the main course at a bugbear feast."

Brago said nothing, merely gritted his teeth and dug in for the final battle. He was so tired right now that he couldn't think of a spell that might help them. All he could do was pray to Brandobaris, for surely the god of stealth and adventuring would have an idea, even if his followers were suddenly bereft of one. With renewed determination, he added his meager fighting skills to those of his companions, wanting his last efforts to make them proud.

*******

"I tell you that my bones are telling me that somethin' be wrong around these parts," Jonas insisted as he stared at his two companions. They were not far from Waterdeep now, and Sand and Casavir wanted to push on, eager to start finding some answers.

"It is nearing dusk already and we will be lucky to reach the city before the gates close as it is," Sand said irritably. He was tired, hungry, and foot sore and not in the mood for any other adventures at present. He had had enough of those to last him for two lifetimes.

"I can sense no evil or danger here abouts," Casavir said with a shrug. "Maybe my powers are weakened by my recent failings, but I doubt it. Tyr does not capriciously give and remove his favor like other gods. If there was trouble near, surely he would bring it to my attention."

"No disrespect meant, but even though I follow Gond, if I waited around for him to lead me or give me inspiration I'd have died of starvation long ago," Jonas snorted.

"He has a point," Sand sighed. "We are not children and the gods are not our parents to tell us what to do or tp lead us from point A to point B. Still, I do not relish the idea of turning away now that we are so close to our goal."

"At least tell us why you feel what you do, or give us an idea of where to look," Casavir looked pointedly at the tinker. If he had more to go on, he would consider a detour from their current course, but otherwise, he was too tired to go on a wild goose chase.

"Wish that I could," Jonas said apologetically. "It's just a feeling in my bones but they have never lied to me. There is trouble somewhere near, that is all I can say."

Shrugging, Sand turned away and continued walking down the road to Waterdeep. Casavir, after giving Jonas an apology, followed the wizard. Jonas stood irresolute for a while, watching them walk away, before following in their wake with a disgruntled mien. It was always the same. He would get an idea or a feeling but was unable to communicate it with those around him. Unlike with metalwork, when the feelings were about things that couldn't be readily seen, most reacted in the same way his two companions did, by turning away in disbelief. Maybe something else would alert them to the trouble, or someone. Despite his words, he did believe that the gods gave men a push in the right direction if the situation was dire enough. Trouble was, he had no clue if this particular instance was of such a nature.

Casavir had caught up with Sand just in time to hear him muttering about the foolishness of the elderly. "Despite your looks, I know that you are very old. Do you speak of yourself or our elderly companion?" he queried, hiding his laughter at the affronted look that came to the elf's face.

"I will have you know that elves age differently than humans," Sand sniffed. "WE do not lose our mental faculties with age."

"Or so elves would have us mere humans believe," Casavir teased and couldn't hold back his laughter at Sand's derisive snort and muttered curse. It was not often that he got the upper hand with Sand in such verbal altercations, and he quite enjoyed it when he did. He was about to say more when he noticed that Sand had come to a dead stop and appeared to be sniffing the air. "What is it?" he asked, his hand going to his weapon.

"I thought I heard the clang of metal and I smell something not entirely pleasant," Sand said quietly, concentrating on what his sense were telling him. Sure enough, he caught the scent again and frowned as he realized the old man had been right, there was trouble afoot. "I smell troll off to the right," he told the paladin. "Not only that, I caught the scent of blood on the wind."

"I told you so," Jonas said gleefully and then paled as the wizard shot him a nasty look. "Sorry."

Without hesitation, Casavir headed off to the right at a run, knowing that Sand's senses could be trusted in this matter. He had not gone far before he heard and smelled what the wizard had: the sounds and cries of battle. Not knowing if it was just a fight between roving bands of monsters, or if some hapless travellers were in trouble, he approached the area cautiously. At first all he could see were several bugbears, but then a hole suddenly appeared and he caught a glimpse of a halfling woman, sword in hand, standing back to back with two others. They were surrounded and if he didn't act quickly, then they would be killed. Sending a prayer to Tyr for victory, he howled a battle cry and charged the ring of monsters.

Sand had had plenty of time to rest and so had several spells ready to go. Without hesitation, he cast Mind Fog to weaken the enemy's will and then cast Mass Hold Monster to freeze as many of the beasts as possible. He then began to cast Greater Missile Storm, one of his favorite spells that he was never without. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Jonas was wisely staying out of the fray and instead was readying bandages for the wounds that the embattled fighters were sure to have.

Khelgar stared in surprise as the troll in front of him suddenly just stopped in mid swing and stood there looking stupid. It was only when a bright splash of green hit the troll that he realized that help had come. Only a mage or sorcerer had the power to effect such a thing upon a creature like a troll. With a renewed spirit and a howl of war, he launced a furious assault on the creatures, fighting for all he was worth. He felt someone to his left and saw a tall human in plate mail attacking with him. It reminded him of all the times Ashara had stood by him during a fight, and he was unable to stop the tears from falling at the memory. Struggling to push such thoughts aside, he swung his axe at anything that moved, almost too tired to worry if it was friend or foe.

Brago sensed the presence of another spell caster even before the first spell had been launched. The power of the spell was great enough to affect several creatures, so he knew that the person who cast it was extremely powerful. He thanked the gods for the timely assistance and renewed his fight against the bugbears in front of him. He felt Emma at his back and turned briefly to grin at her, getting an equally happy grin in return. They weren't going to die this day.

Emma had seen the human charging into battle and suddenly felt an air of resovle and peace flood her. She knew without a doubt that he was either a paladin or a cleric and only briefly wondered how he came to be there, before renewing her own attack on their enemies. It seemed like they had been fighting forever, when all of a sudden the remaining monsters began to flee the scene of the battle. Heaving a sigh of relief, she sank to the ground with a low groan, her arms feeling as if they were about to fall off. Never had she been so tired of fighting in her life. She loved a good battle almost as much as the dwarf, but this one had gone on too long and had almost overwhelmed them for her to take any joy in it. A sudden touch to her arm had her springing to her feet, ready to attack. Her fears were soothed by the deep, masculine voice of the man who had come to their rescue.

"Easy, easy, I merely was asking if you were hurt," Casavir said softly, holding his empty hands up in front of him. A sudden bellow behind him had him whirling to face a new threat, only to come face to face with someone he thought never to see again.

"By all the Gods! Casavir? Is it really you?" Khelgar shouted, staring at the paladin.

"Khelgar, you're alive!" Casavir said happily, a big grin coming to his face. Hurrying forward, he grabbed the dwarf up in his strong arms and swung him around, to the extreme embarassment of the dwarf.

"Aye, it be me," Khelgar confirmed and then grumbled, "Put me down, tis embarassing."

"Sorry," Casavir said, setting the dwarf on his feet. "I just didn't think I'd ever see you again after jumping through that portal."

"If yer here, then I imagine those spells were thrown by that skinny, sharp-tongued wizard," Khelgar growled, but it lacked any heat, so happy he was to be reunited with two of his companions.

"I am glad to see that your recent adventures have not changed you dwarf," Sand said sarcastically as he came forward. "Still the foul-mouthed, grumpy, bad-tempered, hot-headed..."

"Glad to see ya too wizard," Khelgar interrupted.

"I take it these are two of the companions you spoke of Khelgar?" Brago asked as he came to join them.

"Yeah, and I thought never to see them again," Khelgar said gruffly, refusing to give in to the tears threatening to spill. Dwarves never cried.

"Even though this is a muddy, smelly, battlefield, one should never forget their manners," Sand interjected. "Since Khelgar here has apparently forgotten this, allow me to make introductions. I am Sand, famed wizard of Neverwinter, and this gentleman in the plate male is Casavir, a paladin of Tyr."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Brago Longbank and this is my wife Elma," Brago said as Elma joined them. "Normally I would say that this was a fortuitous occasion, help arriving when needed the most. However, now that I know who you are, it seems that the gods have played some part in it. I would deduce that you are on your way to Waterdeep, as were we, before stumbling into this little mess here."

"We are indeed," Casavir nodded. "We are on a quest and believe that what we seek can be found in the City of Splendors."

"So, you're looking for the Knight-Captain, Ashara Thenner, too," Elma said. Seeing their surprise she smiled. "We found Khelgar outside of Everlund and brought him to that town to recover from his injuries. While in a tavern, Brago sang a song he had composed from tales told to him by Khelgar. An elf came to us and told us things that ended with us making the trek to Waterdeep."

"Is everyone okay? Is it safe now?" Jonas asked, coming forward cautiously.

"Yes Jonas, it's safe," Casavir motioned him forward, slightly perturbed that he had forgotten about their other companion in the excitement of seeing Khelgar again. "It was a story Jonas told us that had us travel here as well."

"So, all of us have travelled to this spot based on something we learned from people we had never met before," Sand mused thoughtfully. "Intriguing that we are all looking for the same woman. As much as I hate to say it, but it appears that Brago might be right. The gods are definately at work here, but what their ultimate purpose is remains to be seen."

"Don't know about the rest of you, but I ain't exactly happy shooting the breeze amongst dead bodies," Jonas complained. "Maybe you adventuring types are so used to it that you don't care, but I'm going to go find someplace cleaner and that smells nicer. I also have bandages, ointment, and other things for taking care of your wounds."

"I'm for that," Khelgar said joyfully. "Let's leave this place for the scavengers," he finished as he followed the old tinker.

The others were happy to leave, and soon they were all gathered at the spot Jonas had picked. It was upwind from the battle site and was a comfortable swath of green grass alongside a slow moving stream. As the sun was just about to set and the city was too far away to reach before the gates were locked, they decided to make camp where they were for the night. Where Casavir and Sand had been eager to reach Waterdeep before, they each now felt it was less urgent that they did so. Each silently agreed with Brago's assessment that the gods had played a roll in the day's events. Each took it to mean that they could afford to rest, for surely they would find success on the morrow. They talked about inconsequential things as they cleaned and bandaged their wounds, declining Casavir's offer of aid, not really needing it as they hadn't suffered anything too serious. Then they prepared and ate some dinner. Afterwards, despite being tired from the battle, they were too keyed up to rest, and so they sat around the fire and talked about past events and what they hoped to accomplish in the days to come.

"I must say that I now feel more optomistic about our endeavors," Sand said. "Before meeting with you again Khelgar, the most I hoped for from this little jaunt was to find resolution. To find the answer to the question of what happened to everyone after that last battle and desperate escape."

"Eh? Still the skeptical wizard I see," Khelgar said in amusement. Turning to his newest companions he explained. "Sand here was always one to flip over a shiny coin to find the corrosion on the other side. Never could simply accept good things without wondering the whys and wherefores."

"Ah, a glass half empty type," Brago nodded, scribbling away in his journal. This was an excellent opportunity to get more detail for the epic tale of the Knight-Captain that he planned to write.

"Not another bard," Sand groaned. He had found Grobnar to be amusing, but slightly inept and incompetent. It was more like the gnome to mess something up than fix it, not to mention that his singing and playing abilities left something to be desired.

"Hey, don't be painting Brago with the same brush as that idiot gnome companion of ours," Khelgar said testily. "The halfling's by far a better singer and much better fighter than Grobnar."

"Do not speak ill of the dead," Casavir growled. "When our backs were against the wall and we really needed him, Grobnar was there for us. Without him and the golem he repaired and controlled, we would all be dead now. We should be praising his bravery, not bemoaning his lack in other areas." He watched as both Khelgar and Sand looked away in shame at the censure.

"I'm sure they didn't mean their words the way they sounded Casavir," Elma tried to soothe ruffled feathers. "It's not easy to lose those close to you and each must deal with it the best they can. I am sure there was truth in what they said, just as I am sure that they know how great Grobnar's sacrifice was. If you ask me, the world could use more humor such as that provided by the gnome, albeit unintentionally."

Brago saw the others glance at him and he held up his hands. "Don't look at me," he laughed. "I find that Elma is usually right and learned long ago not to argue with her."

"I am old and have travelled many places and seen much in my time," Jonas had been a silent observer up to this point, but was now compelled to speak his peace. "I have learned that it takes all types to make the world go 'round, and that everyone born and everything made has a purpose to serve in this life. Many are not given the opportunity to find their purpose before death claims them. It sounds to me like Grobnar found and served his and is most likely at peace now."

"Forgive me for my harsh words," Casavir apologized, looking at Sand and Khelgar. "I judged too quickly and spoke in error."

"No, no, it is us that should apologize," Sand waived him off. "I never really could understand why Ashara liked having the gnome around. Perhaps she saw something in him that the rest of us couldn't see, some kind of vision of the future."

"Maybe it was jus' her way," Khelgar said. "She always believed in giving people the benefit of the doubt, letting them prove their worth. I'm sure she thought I was a self-centered, prejudiced, hot-headed dwarf when we first met. She wouldn't have been far wrong in that. But travelling with her, watching her handle all that shit thrown at her, and her being so young to boot, kinda made me realize how wrong I was. She made me a better fighter and a better person."

"She is a remarkable woman," Casavir agreed, not hiding his love and admiration for her. "I had always hoped that we...," he broke off and changed direction. "She believed in me when I didn't believe in myself and for that I will be forever grateful."

"She could easily have sent me packing after the trial when she learned of my involvement with the Hosttower of Luskan, the very people that were determined to kill her," Sand nodded. "However, she accepted the fact that I had a shady past, but was looking to do better and gave me the chance to make a difference for the good of those around me. After decades of seeing nothing but pain and death, she showed me what true happiness was and how precious life is."

"She even changed the way Nevalle looked at things," Khelgar chuckled. Seeing Brago's and Elma's puzzled looks, he realized he had never told them about Ashara's true love. "Nevalle is the Captain of The Neverwinter Nine, Lord Nasher's personal guard. He was a pompous, by the book, boot licker of Nasher's that I didn't care for at all. He was so rigid that a stiff wind would have broken him in half. After a few weeks of Ashara challenging his preconceived ideas and kicking his butt on the practice grounds, she had him seeing things in a whole new light. I think that might have had something to do with his falling in love with her."

"Please Khelgar," Sand snorted. "Every man, from the lowliest stable boy, to the highest ranking officers in Crossroad Keep was in love with her. All she had to do was walk into a room or onto the training grounds and they would stop and stare. She even had the ranger dancing to her tune, despite the fact he kept telling everyone he was his own man and could do what he wanted. He always jumped to her bidding every time she snapped her fingers. Do you think that Nevalle or Ashara were blind to the effect she had on others? I do not, and so logic would assume that there was more to their coming together than what we saw."

"They had many private conversations together, especially once Nevalle was stationed permanently at the keep after her induction into the Nine," Casavir said. He saw the others look at him in surprise and found himself blushing under their scrutiny. "I admit, I did indulge in behavior not becoming to a paladin."

"You spied on them?" Elma asked softly. Seeing him nod she finally understood what drove him. "You were in love with her and that's why you did it, isn't it?" Getting another nod she ventured further. "You are committed to finding her and returning her to where she belongs, in the arms of another man, because it is the only way you can honorably show you care."

Casavir merely stared at her, thinking she was far too perceptive by half. "You see much that lies beneath the surface, a rare talent."

"One necessary for a halfling to survive in the world of men," Elma agreed. "I have learned to read between the lines of what people say and write, and to look beyond a person's actions to the reasons behind them. It is something that anyone can do, if they put their mind to developing the skill. Many times it was this ability that kept Brago from making a hazardous or potentially lethal mistake, such as going into a supposedly deserted cave to find treasure."

Brago laughed and told them of the time he had been persuaded to buy an old man some drinks in exchange for a tale of hidden treasure. "Elma here thought the whole thing sounded off, but I was so caught up in the grand tale the man told that I didn't see anything wrong. It was only her alertness at the entrace to the cave that saved me from the jaws of a dire tiger looking to feed her hungry cubs."

"I told him that even if there was a king's ransom in the cave it wasn't worth his life to try and get it," Elma chuckled. "I figured that the old man either made the whole story up in order to get a few free drinks, or that his memory failed him and he forgot the truth."

"At any rate, it sounds like Ashara is a pretty special person to lots of people," Brago said hurriedly, to keep Elma from telling any more embarassing stories. "I can't wait to meet her."

"So you feel as we do, that she is in Waterdeep?" Sand asked and saw the halfling bard nod.

"What I don't get, is how she is a slave and a gladiator," Khelgar grumbled. "Ashara would rather die than be a slave, and surely she would not be content to fight in an arena, especially since she has a man who loves her waiting for her to return."

"Khelgar, you were thrown out of that portal so hard that you were knocked unconcious for at least a couple of days," Elma pointed out. "Maybe Ashara suffered similar or perhaps even worse injuries than that."

"Maybe she is fighting in the Arena beacause she doesn't remember anything," Brago speculated. "I've seen people get hit in the head and lose their memories before. That would explain everything if it's what happened to her."

"Which means that she will need all of the help we can give her to bring her back," Sand said firmly.

"What if she doesn't want to go back?" Jonas asked and saw the others stare at him aghast. "If she truly doesn't remember her old life and has found happiness in her new life, can you justify uprooting her from it and forcing her to go with you?"

The others looked at him and at each other, but were at a loss as to how to answer him. What he suggested was something that none of them had ever considered. It was Casavir who finally broke the long silence caused by the tinker's question. "All we can do is find her and tell her what we know," he said. "What happens after that will just have to be dealt with. I know that if it were me, I would want to know the truth, no matter how uncomfortable I was with it. Ashara was never one to ignore the truth just because it didn't fit in with her plans or ideas."

"Truth is a powerful weapon, one that can bring down even the strongest of opponents or topple the most powerful regimes," Sand nodded. "It is why so many that seek power also seek to destroy Truth. Ashara knew this, which is why she never hesitated to use the True Name Scrolls. I agree with Casavir. Ashara would want to know the truth, so we must see to it that she learns of it, regardless of her personal feelings or who else might be hurt by it."

"Heh, if Ashara is a gladiator, I'd bet my last copper that she is a star," Khelgar laughed. "I've seen her fight and I can honestly say I'm glad I was on her side in this whole mess. She ain't one you want to lock horns with, not if you like having all yer body parts."

"She is an exceptionally skilled fighter, hardened by battle and forged in fire," Casavir nodded. "If she is in Waterdeep and is a gladiator, then many will know of her. It will not be difficult to find her or get answers to questions about her."

"Remember that I told you she was a slave?" Jonas interjected. "Cain Felgarn is not the type to let such a valuable piece of property go easily." Seeing the dwarf was taking inssue with the word 'slave' he hastened to forestall the tirade about to spill forth. "I know she isn't supposed to be a slave, but that is how the she would have been introduced to the people of Waterdeep. As you no doubt know, slaves have little to no rights and are bartered much the same way as horses and cattle. I urge caution in your questions of and dealings with the people in Waterdeep."

"He is right," Elma spoke up. "Having travelled widely, I have been in many places that have such things as slavery. Always there are those who seek to end the practice or free a loved one from it. However, they seldom are successful by confronting those who practice the trade. I too urge you to be cautious in your approach."

"Yeah, if you annoy the wrong people, then you will find yourselves being escorted out of the city post haste," Brago nodded. "You won't be able to help Ashara if that happens."

Suddenly Khelgar yawned and only then did they realize how late it was. Agreeing to let the matter be and to sleep on it, they quickly set up the bedrolls around the fire as Sand spelled the camp to protect them, thus eliminating the need to post a watch. Despite the earlier battle, they weren't all that far from Waterdeep and the Lords of the city did have patrols out day and night. They figured they'd be safe enough and settled down to sleep. Tomorrow they would reach the city and then, after getting the lay of the land, they could discuss their options once more.


	14. Chapter 13: Plans Made

Chapter 13: Plans Made

"Sir, there are some people to see you," the butler announced, looking directly at Lord Brentwood.

"Ah, perhaps the man I hired has some information," Ashton said to Jocelyn and his father. "But, you said there was more than one?" he asked of the butler.

"Yes, he has two others with him," the butler nodded. "They await you in the foyer."

Curious, Ashton got to his feet, followed by the others, and headed towards the entrance. When they arrived, they saw the men in question, a blond-haired human in travel stained clothes, and a wood elf in dark brown and green leathers. Ashton looked questioningly at the man he had hired. "Malik, what is going on?"

"Lord Brentwood, I was returning here with the information you requested, when these two men cornered me," the man said. "When I learned that they were seeking the same thing as you, I brought them here to speak with you directly. I believe they may be able to help us."

Jocelyn looked at the two and thought they looked like trouble and couldn't imagine of what use they could be. Looking closer, he saw that despite the rough clothing, the blond had an air about him that suggested nobility. The elf on the other hand looked like he would be more comfortable in the woods than the city. "I am Jocelyn Martell and this is my father Erik. Perhaps you'd care to enlighten us as to who you are and what brings you to Waterdeep and our home," he said aloud.

Nevalle took the lead, knowing that Daeghun was not comfortable around humans, much less nobles such as those that stood before them. "My name is Nevalle and this man with me is named Daeghun. We have come to Waterdeep in search of someone. We overheard your man talking in a tavern down at the docks, and what he said led us to believe that you might have some of the answers we seek."

"Nevalle? That is an unusual name, one which I've heard before," Ashton spoke up. "I believe that Lord Nasher's Captain of The Nine had the same name."

Daeghun saw the knowing look in the nobleman's eyes and stepped forward. "You have surmised rightly that this is indeed Sir Nevalle, Lord Nasher's right hand. However, that is not important right now. What is important is the fact that my foster daughter, Ashara, might be here in Waterdeep."

"We have reason to believe that the gladiator known as Flame is none other than Ashara Thenner, Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep, heroine of Neverwinter, missing since the fall of the King of Shadows several weeks ago," Nevalle interjected, impatient to get to the heart of the matter.

"What makes you think this?" Erik asked.

"We excavated the ruins in the Mere where they last were, but did not find her body," Daeghun answered. "Another of her companions, a druid named Elanee, survived the final battle and eventually made her way to Crossroad Keep. Elanee told us that our hunch was correct, Ashara did survive, but had gone through a Song Portal to escape, same as Elanee. There was no telling where the Portal would send the survivors, so we consulted a wizard who divined that the answers we sought could be found here in Waterdeep."

"When we arrived and heard the talk about Flame and the description given, we knew we had found what we seek," Nevalle took up the rest of the story. "We are convinced that you can help us gain access to the Arena to see for ourselves if what we believe is true."

"I knew it, I knew there was more to her than met the eye!" Jocelyn said excitedly.

"If she really is who you claim, why then would she be fighting in the Arena?" Erik asked. "Everyone has heard the story of recent events in Neverwinter, and she's a famous person. Surely, she would not willingly become a gladiator."

"Elanee was severely hurt upon exiting the portal," Daeghun answered. "There is no telling what injuries the others have sustained, and perhaps Ashara suffered one which affects her memory. Regardless of how she came to be here, I am positive that we are correct in our assumptions."

"We won't know for sure until we can see her," Nevalle spoke up. "We also have reason to believe that she is in danger from someone named Blackwell."

"Yes, Roger Blackwell, a man worse than Cain Felgarn, if even half the rumors that abound about him are true," Jocelyn said darkly.

"What do you know of these two men?" Daeghun asked, wanting to know what to expect if the need to confront the two arose.

"Well, Felgarn is a slaver and not a kind master at that," Erik began. "He's not too scrupulous about how he turns a profit, just so long as his slaves line his pockets, and Flame certainly does that. She..."

"Ashara is no body's slave!" Nevalle snapped.

"Easy, I meant nothing by it," Erik said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

"To all in the city, except those present, Flame is a gladiator and a slave," Ashton said firmly. "If you don't accept that bit of truth, you will find yourself in a world of trouble."

Placing a hand on Nevalle's shoulder, Daeghun said softly, "I too do not like the term, but the reality of the situation is that she is a slave here in Waterdeep. She will not be one for long though."

Turning to Erik he nodded at him to continue.

"Well, as I was saying, Felgarn is only interested in making money," Erik went on. "Blackwell on the other hand, is a dark blot on the streets of Waterdeep. He has many enemies, but he is very rich and has very strong political connections. He also is very shrewd at conducting his business in such a way as to keep people guessing about what he really does. Rumor has it that he has perverse taste, and that a young woman would be better off dead than in his hands. What we do know for certain is that he wants Flame, and he has the gold and the resources to get what he wants."

"I may be able to shed some light on his purpose," Malik broke in. He had been standing silently as the others talked, waiting for the right moment to present his other news. Getting the okay to proceed he told them what he had learned in the past couple of days. "Blackwell just recently received company, a Red Wizard of Thay. It was after this wizard's arrival that the story went about that Blackwell was interested in Flame. I also learned that he is offering Felgarn a hefty sum for her. Furthermore, I spoke with someone who overheard a conversation between Felgarn and Blackwell. The gist of it was that it would not be healthy for either of them to refuse the wishes of this wizard."

"What would a Red Wizard want with a gladiator?" Jocelyn asked.

"Thay is no friend to Neverwinter," Ashton said thoughtfully. "Is it possible he has divined the truth of Flame's identity?"

"If he has, then he mustn't get his hands on Ashara," Nevalle said in alarm. "She isn't just a hero of Neverwinter, she is also a member of the Nine and knows much about how we operate. She has a great deal of knowledge about our security measures, border patrols, military preparedness. She would be tortured into revealing all she knows and then killed."

"Or worse, turned into a tool to be used within the walls of the city, and perhaps the castle as well," Daeghun said darkly. "I will not allow this to happen to my daughter." He saw the young man Jocelyn start to say something, only to be waived off by Lord Brentwood. "What are you keeping from us?"

Ashton studied the elf before, weighing his words carefully. He didn't know how Daeghun would react to what he was about to say, and he hoped that it would not offend the elf. "I travelled here from Cormyr to speak with the Martells about the horses they breed. While discussing something of our personal lives a few nights ago, I had told the story of my first love, mainly because the relationship Erik and his wife have reminded me of it. When the labors of our love bore fruit, I thought to marry her, but my father had other ideas. The lady in question was not noble born, and while I didn't care, my family did. I strongly suspected that my father threatened her, or our unborn child, and thus she left, never to return. I looked for her, hired people to track her, and even spent several months wandering around Cormyr trying to find evidence of where she went. Eventually, I was forced to admit defeat and try to move on with my life."

"A tragic tale, but one I have heard many times over," Daeghun said.

"I did marry a suitable woman, but I merely cared for her, nothing more," Ashton continued. "I could never forget my first love, nor could I ever forget that we had created a child together. I often wondered what had become of her and our child and now I think I have the answer. You see, my love's name was Esmerelle and I believe that Ashara is our daughter." As he finished, he saw Nevalle's mouth drop open in shock, and that Daeghun had gone pale.

"Esmerelle was a bard, and my one time friend and companion in adventure," Daeghun whispered. "She came to me over twenty years ago, heavily pregnant and fearful. She never said who fathered her child, for she was afraid. Now I know why."

"Daeghun told me that Esmerelle had named her daughter after the father," Nevalle said, the shock he was still feeling coloring his words. "Your name is Brentwood. I don't see how..."

"My last name is Brentwood, but my first name is Ashton," Lord Brentwood interrupted.

There was a long silence as the men each stood lost in their thoughts. "At least now I know that you have my, our, daughter's best interests at heart," Daeghun finally broke the silence, his voice once again strong, having recovered from the initial shock.

"I am only her father by blood, although I hope to become more than that in time," Ashton said softly. "Being a father is more than siring a child. It is tending them when they are sick, caring for their hurts, admonishing their failings and celebrating their achievements. In that respect, you are more Ashara's father than I am, and I have no wish to take your place in her life, but to make my own."

"Several times Ashara and I talked about this," Nevalle said. "She always told me that she would always consider you, Daeghun, to be her father, even if she ever learned who sired her."

"From the way you say her name, I would surmise that Ashara means more to you than just being a fellow soldier," Ashton said shrewdly, eyeing Nevalle critically.

Nevalle felt himself stiffen, the knowledge that he was speaking to a man who could grant or deny his one desire causing him to lose a little of his self confidence. "I love her, as much as, if not more than, she loves me. We hoped to build a future together once the war was over. It is a future that I once could see clearly, but that has become cloudy and uncertain. There are many in Neverwinter who would not approve of a marriage between a noble and a commoner, even one such as Ashara. At one time that would have been a concern, but not anymore."

"Ah yes, the snobbishness of the nobility, seeking to keep the bloodlines pure and unsullied," Ashton snorted. "Surprising that such a view still holds true in Neverwinter, when the man who sits the throne is of common birth and gained his title at the point of a sword rather than by right of birth. I suppose that once they discover that Ashara is of noble blood, that those fools would no doubt welcome her amongst their ranks."

"That is not what I meant," Nevalle shook his head. "I went against Lord Nasher's orders when I started on my quest to find Ashara. To openly defy your lord, no matter the reason, is to court reprimand. I expect to be stripped of most of my titles as a result, perhaps even of my lands. That would make me just as much of a commoner as Ashara, despite my noble birth."

"You are a stronger man than I was," Ashton sighed shook his head. "Where I gave in to my family's demands, you defied your lord, gave up your lands and wealth, all for the woman you love. You are to be commended for standing up for what you believe in." He looked directly into Nevalle's eyes, "Do not worry about the repercussions of your actions. I will see to it that you are not penalized too heavily for it. I would do anything for my child, including using my influence to restore the man she loves to his rightful place if need be. That is, of course, if it is what you both desire."

"Th-th-thank you, my lord," Nevalle stammered, bowing his head in acknowledgement.

"Never thank someone for things not yet accomplished Nevalle," Daeghun admonished. "There may be no reason for Lord Brentwood to intervene on your behalf. Lord Nasher understands better than anyone that it is one's actions, not their blood, that determines nobility. What you did was one of the most noble of acts, for it required great personal sacrifice."

"Daeghun is absolutely correct," Ashton smiled.

"Sorry to interrupt, but while all of this is fascinating, there is still much to be done yet and I'm afraid that our time may be running out," Jocelyn interrupted. He had stood silently watching the exchange, but now felt compelled to bring them back to the present day, and the problem they had yet to resolve. Briefly he had been disappointed by the fact that, no matter what he did, he would not be able to win Ashara for himself. However, his heart would not let him change course now, for she needed help and he would give it freely.

"He is correct my lord," Malik spoke again. "Blackwell is already making preparations to leave the city, and it appears to be in the next day or two. That means that he has been successful in getting what he wants once again. Once the deal is made, the woman will be taken to the ship and who knows where she will end up then. Maybe Thay, if the story of the wizard is true, but it could just as easily be any one of a dozen other cities that Blackwell has business in. It will be nigh to impossible to secure her release after that."

"I will never give up on freeing her," Nevalle said fiercely. "I will hunt Blackwell down and make him sorry he was ever born."

"I would prefer that we not have to take such drastic measures," Daeghun frowned. "We will have to determine how to free her before then. I have not been to this city in over a hundred years, yet the Arena was here then, and I assume it is just as hard to gain access to the gladiator pits now as it was then. Unless we can find a way inside to free Ashara, we will have to plan on doing so once she has been released to Blackwell and his cronies."

"I don't like the idea of confronting any of Blackwell's men in the streets," Erik shook his head. "We would most likely end up fighting and innocent bystanders could be hurt or killed in the process. Not only that, but the Lords of Waterdeep frown on such things and would levy heavy penalties upon those engaging in such activities."

"My lord, there may be a way to free the gladiator from the Arena," Malik broke in. "Years ago, one fighter offended a powerful patron by refusing her advances. The 'lady' retaliated by sending an assassin to kill the offending man. Somehow, the assassin got inside the Arena and killed the fighter in his sleep. An investigation was launched, but no one could figure out how he got in. You see, the main gates were still locked and the guards patrolling saw and heard nothing."

"They could have been paid to let the assassin in and say nothing afterwards," Jocelyn shrugged, not seeing where the man was going with the story.

"That's just it, they weren't," Malik shook his head. "I'm sure you're aware that the Lords employ several mages and priests, and that most of them are very adept at getting answers. If there had been any deceit upon the part of the guards, it would have been made public. As it was, they concluded that magic of some sort must have been used, or a secret entrance found. However, nothing was discovered, and after a few days the matter was dropped and then forgotten."

"So you believe that there is a secret passage that we might use?" Daeghun asked.

"I believe so," Malik nodded. "It would just be a matter of finding it, and I already have a couple of clues as to where it might be. I would need but one more day to confirm it."

"Then go and see if there is an entrance we could use," Ashton orderd. "Return as soon as you know for certain, one way or the other, so that we can plan accordingly." Malik nodded and hurried toward the door and left.

Erik turned back to his newest guests, "I offer you the hospitality of my home for as long as it is needed Sir Nevalle."

"Thank you, but we don't wish to impose further on you than we already have," Nevalle replied.

"Nonsense, it's no imposition," Erik waived away the concern. "We have room to spare, if you don't mind sharing. Besides, it will be hard for you to find more suitable accommodations tonight."

"Also, we might receive word in the middle of the night," Ashton spoke up. "We will be able to act upon the information immediately instead of tracking you down."

"We accept your generous offer then," Nevalle bowed and then chuckled at the expression on Daeghun's face. "I know, I know, you'd prefer to be out in the open air."

"I can handle being inside for a couple of days," Daeghun frowned, a little irritated at the comment. "I have stayed in houses such as this before."

"Yeah, well you look like you're about to go to sleep inside a dragon's nest," Nevalle chuckled. Since discovering that Ashara was indeed in Waterdeep, and alive and well for the time being, his mood had taken a turn for the better, and he found himself able to relax and see the humor in their situations.

"I think that perhaps you need to rest," Daeghun said sourly. "It is obvious that your mind is being affected by recent events."

"Come, I'll show you to your room," Jocelyn said, biting back his laughter. He had wondered if the elf had a sense of humor or not. Leading the way, he let his thoughts turn to the gladiator and the man who had come to claim her. They seemed an odd pair, but he could hear in the voices of the knight and the elf how much they loved her. He realized that all of them had come together for one purpose: to free Ashara, aka Flame, from her bonds. He hoped the old saying proved true, that love could move mountains, for they had a huge one to move now.

******

"Hey Sven, Flame, we gotta talk," Radnor said as he burst into Sven's small room with Bull in tow.

Sven's head snapped around, a shiver running down his spine at the urgency in the smaller man's voice. They had been in Waterdeep for several weeks now, and because they had made Cain so much money, the man had relaxed the restriction about socializing with other fighters. Consequently, they were all free to come and go as they pleased around the Pit, as the fighters called the sleeping area. "What's up?"

"Go on Bull, tell 'em what you heard," Radnor pulled the bigger man further into the room. He was so big, that he made the room seem extremely tiny.

"I hear bad news," Bull began. "I not like your owner, Felgarn, but I loathe Blackwell. That monster has made deal with Felgarn, not a nice one."

"Who's Blackwell?" Flame asked. She had heard the name whispered a couple of times, but no one had ever wanted to talk about him.

"Blackwell be a rich, mean, man," Bull answered. "Lots 'o money, lots 'o friends, can buy anything he wants, uses others any way he wants. He wants to buy Flame from Felgarn, ain't nobody will tell him no."

"What!?" Sven gasped, a reaction echoed by the woman at his side. They looked at each other, neither one liking the idea of being seperated, not now that their relationship had moved to a new level. "Why? He's never owned any gladiators, not that I've ever heard."

"I hear Flame not for him," Bull replied. "I hear some Thayan mage want her. Thayans not nice, use people like animals, experiment on them. I hate them," he growled, his voice and face filled with loathing.

"Where and from whom did you hear this?" Flame asked, fear curling in her stomach. She might not remember her past, but she did remember hearing stories about the wickedness of the Thayan people. The idea that she could be sold to one of them, and a mage at that, made her want to run and hide.

"He overheard one of them bitches that fights for Maughan laughing about it," Radnor said. "The one they call Eel. She didn't get her name from her slick moves in the Arena, but from the way she crawls from bed to bed. She'll sleep with anyone or anything that has the goods to please her. Apparently, she is a regular customer up at the Blackwell estate, servicing the men for a hefty amount of gold. She was real happy to hear that you'd be leaving Flame, jealous whore that she is."

"Blackwell, he use women like dirt, and he treats fighters like animals," Bull grumbled. "It be bad he wants Flame, but he is just errand boy for mage."

"Felgarn will do it, he will make a deal with the creep, if it lines his pockets with more gold than Flame could make for him in the Arena," Sven said with certainty. All the gladiators knew that Felgarn had no sentimentality, nor any morals of any kind. It was considered bad luck to end up in the man's clutches. "We can't let that happen."

"I don't know how we can stop it," Flame shook her head. "Cain gives us only the bare minimum from the gold we earn for him. We don't even have enough between all of us to bribe any of the guards, let alone work out a deal of our own."

"Not need to deal, just need to get away," Bull looked at her. "I been here long time, know much. I know of secret passage, to the outside."

"A secret tunnel out of the Arena?" Sven asked, hope filling him.

"Uh huh," Bull nodded. "Very hidden, even from mages. Heard of it from old fighter now dead. He say assassin use it to kill a fighter and get away. Not easy to find, but maybe I can."

"Even if we can get Flame out of the arena, we would still have to find a way out of the city," Radnor shook his head. "The patrols would catch us before we got very far."

"I have friend on outside, knows people, he could help," Bull told them. "I send message now. I hear soon if he help and then we can go."

Flame got to her feet and walked over to the big man. He was shorter than Sven, but still towered over her, and he was even bulkier than her blond giant. She felt almost like a girl next to him. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she said, holding back her chuckles at the blush that stained his cheeks.

"Hey, don't you go putting the moves on my man here," Radnor lightly punched her on the arm, laughing a little.

"You not worry 'bout woman stealing me, little one," Bull chuckled as he swept Radnor off his feet and into his arms. "She pretty, but I no like women." Setting him on his feet, Bull turned to look at Sven and Flame. "I go and see friend, you wait here till I get back."

Sven and Flame nodded and then waited until Bull and Radnor had left before saying anything. "I won't let this Blackwell get his hands on you, I promise," Sven said fiercely.

"I don't want to be in the clutches of either Blackwell or this Thayan mage," Flame shook here head. "But you know as well as I do that mages have ways of making people do what they want."

"Well, hopefully Bull's friend will be able to help us escape," Sven said as he sat upon the cot and pulled her into his lap. "We'll leave Waterdeep and go far, far away, maybe to the North. My people still live there and they will shelter us. We can make a new life together, a life that doesn't include fighting on a daily basis. I don't know about you, but I could certainly use the vacation."

"That sounds good," Flame smiled at him and then chuckled.

"You find something about that funny?" Sven hitched an eyebrow up.

"Yeah, the idea of me becoming a farmer or a housewife," Flame chuckled. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for such a life."

"Well, we could always find a place where our skills are in demand," Sven laughed. "I mean, I think we make a great team. We could even become the most famous mercenaries the land has ever seen."

"That actually sounds like fun, and something I'd rather do," Flame nodded in agreement.

"Then that's what we'll do," Sven decided. "We'll escape and find someplace where we can use our skills to our advantage. Work for ourselves for a change."

"Sounds like a plan," Flame agreed. "Now, I'm hungry, so let's go get some food while we wait," she wiggled out of his lap and onto her feet.

"Hold up a minute," Sven got to his feet as well. "I think it might be a good idea to get our things together first. Just in case we have to leave quickly, I'd rather our dinner be interrupted than our packing."

"Hmm, good idea," Flame nodded and turned to begin gathering up what few possessions she had.

Sven actually felt a little relieved that this whole situation had come about. It gave him a valid reason to take her far away and keep her from anyone who might know her and jog her memory. He was sure that wherever she called home was somewhere either around Waterdeep or in the neighboring realm of Neverwitner. The further away they were, the more likely he would be able to make her his and his alone. Yeah, it was selfish, but he loved her and would do anything to keep her. When they had finished, they went to the common room to eat dinner and see the few friends they had made one last time. One way or another, they'd be leaving tonight.


End file.
